Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
by Jason Elliott
Summary: The canon plot of the game is conveyed in the form and length of a novel; the adventures of the protagonist are explored in far greater detail, as are his thoughts and inner conflicts throughout the story.
1. Chapter 1: Awakening

Disclaimer: All rights to the Star Wars franchise and characters belong to Lucasfilm.

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Awakening<span>

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

Knights of the Old Republic

Four thousand years before

The rise of the Galactic

Empire, the Republic verges

On collapse. Darth Malak,

Last surviing apprentice of

The Dark Lord Revan, has

Unleashed an invincible

Sith armada upon an

Unsuspecting galaxy.

Crushing all resistance,

Malak's war of conquest has left the Jedi Order

Scattered and vulnerable as countless Knights fall in

Battle, and many more

Swear allegiance to the new Sith Master.

In the skies above the Outer

Rim world of Tairs, a Jedi

Battle fleet engages the

Forces of Darth Malak in a

Desperate effort to halt the

Sith's galactic domination….

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><p>Sirens whirred around him as he shifted in his sleep, caught in a mass of shapeless dreams that granted him no peace. Through the haze of his unconsciousness, he felt the cool touch of iron upon his face, and briefly glimpsed a figure in front of him, before finally breaking into consciousness. He sat bolt upright in his stainless steel bed, eyes and ears adjusting to the flashing alarms and screeching that accompanied them. Gazing around the room, which was full of bunks identical to his own, he struggled to shake off the last vestiges of sleep and discern his situation. Clearly there was an emergency, but…<p>

His mind stopped there. _Where_ was he? For that matter, _who_ was he? He glanced over at the small storage box that was bolted to the floor beside his bed, and saw a small vanity mirror resting on top of it. Gazing into it, he saw a man in his mid-twenties staring back at him—with fair skin, dark eyes, an aquiline nose, pronounced cheekbones, a strong jaw, and rich brown hair pushed back from his face—a very handsome man. A man who was fully aware of his good looks, and who obviously enjoyed looking at his reflection, one corner of his mouth curling upward into a smirk by sheer reflex.

But who _was_ he? He grappled with his mind, desperately seeking his identity. It was like searching through a corrupted datapad, attempting to elicit answers from something that was hopelessly broken. And then, in a flash, it all returned to him.

His name was Lysias, a former smuggler born on the planet of Deralia. After being caught during a smuggling run six months ago, he had been recruited into the space fleet of the Galactic Republic in exchange for absolution of his past crimes. At present, he had been transferred aboard the Endar Spire, a Hammerhead class cruiser that was transporting Bastila Shan, a prodigious Jedi Knight. Lysias had never actually seen Bastila during his time aboard the ship, but he had heard many rumors concerning her from his crewmates.

As the sirens continued their bleating, Lysias heard the distinct undertones of explosions and laser fire. Eyes narrowing, he swung himself from his bunk, moving to his storage box. The ship was under attack, he thought to himself, opening it and dressing himself. As the Republic as in the middle of a galaxy-wide war with the recently emerged Sith Empire, the identities of the assailants were of no question.

Just as Lysias had fit on his combat boots and retrieved his standard-issue blaster pistol and vibroblade from beneath his bed when the room's electronic door beeped and slid open. In walked a man of about thirty, with short blond hair and a box-like face. "Lysias!" he shouted, ducking in and closing the door behind him. "Leave it to you to be the only one asleep, now of all times!"

His name was Trask Ulgo, thought Lysias, as if there was someone standing behind him whispering information into his ear. "You're my bunkmate," Lysias said, more to himself than to Trask.

Trask seemed to falter, taken aback by this statement. He quickly regained his composure, however. "Yes, I am your bunkmate," he replied sarcastically, "and no, don't mind the Sith assault that's taking place right now, oh no, just go right back to sleep…COME ON MAN! I know you smuggler types are a lazy bunch, but I mean really, you're part of the Republic fleet now! Let's go!" Lysias couldn't help but chuckle as he left his bedside and strode over to Trask. The latter's eyes narrowed at this. "We'll see if you're still laughing once I open this door," he said sternly.

But Lysias had wiped any further lightheartedness from his mind; he was now concentrating on the sounds coming from beyond the door. Laser fire and screams of pain meant that they would probably be engaged the moment they opened to door. Drawing his blaster pistol, Lysias nodded at Trask, who pressed the button to open the exit.

Ducking through even before the door had fully opened, Lysias scanned an empty hallway to find the Republic soldiers at the far end shooting at an unseen enemy around the corner. He sprinted towards them, with Trask following close behind. By the time Lysias reached the soldiers, two had been felled by opposing laser fire, with the third one courageously standing his ground. However he was quickly forced to retreat towards Lysias. "Thank heavens you're here, I-"

"How many are there?" Lysias interjected, staring intently at the soldier, who was adorned in Republican armor.

"U-Uh, there's four of them," he stuttered.

"Right, give me your pistol."

"What!"

"I said give me your pistol." Lysias' mind was working rapidly, viewing his circumstances.

"Um, okay, here," said the soldier, handing over his gun.

"What are you doing Lysias?" Trask inquired, appearing as perplexed as the soldier.

Ignoring both of them Lysias walked to the hallway's corner, just out of sight of whoever, by the sound of their approaching footsteps, were drawing nearer. He threw the soldier's pistol into the second hallway, and immediately stepped out into view of the assailants. As he had expected, they had directed their blaster fire at the hurled weapon, giving him time to survey his targets—four of them in dark metallic armor—and subsequently direct his own blaster at them. Acting almost entirely on instinct, Lysias took aim and squeezed the trigger four times in no more than a second. A moment later the four enemy Sith soldiers collapsed, each with a near identical hole burned in their throats.

"All clear," he announced, as Trask and the second soldier hesitantly peered around the corner.

"How, how did you do that?" the soldier asked, dumbfounded, staring at the fallen Sith.

Lysias chuckled. "Well," he said, gesturing to his pistol, "I pointed this at them, and fired."

"Har har Lysias, pardon us if we didn't get top scores on our marksmanship tests," retorted Trask, walking towards him. Trask appeared slightly jolted, his eyes darting from the enemy corpses to Lysias. He frowned, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I suppose spending you life running from port authorities and firing over your shoulder helps to hone you skills. In any case, we need to get moving. The Sith are obviously here to try to capture the Jedi Bastila Shan, we need to stop them!"

"We won't be able to do that," the soldier interjected. "They've already overrun the ship, everyone is heading to the escape pods."

"Which are where?" asked Lysias.

"They're by the command bridge."

Trask nodded at this. "Of course," he said, "standard Republic protocol. If the pods are set near the command bridge of a ship, then the higher ranking officials on the ship will have a better chance of getting away."

"It sort of leaves grunts like us out in the cold, though," Lysias drawled. "Although I suppose it is to the _greater_ good of the Republic…" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Just then another explosion shook the ship. "We should get going," Trask urged, and the trio began running up the hallway, the soldier stooping to recover one of the downed Siths' blasters, his own having been fried by laserfire.

Moving through the Endar Spire, making their way to the command bridge, Lysias reflected upon his situation. It was just his luck, he thought bitterly, to have transferred aboard a vessel right before it was attacked. Why again had he transferred? It hadn't been his choice, he recalled; his commanding officer had informed him that he had been requested, although by whom he did not know. He had assumed that he had been selected for his combat skills; he had been top of his regiment in fighting prowess, the use of blasters and vibroblades coming naturally to him almost by pure instinct. Someone of his capabilities would have been desirable for a ship transporting as important a person as Bastila Shan.

Bastila Shan. Lysias had heard that she was a Jedi of prodigious skill, and had been crucial to the Republican war effort due to her mastery of the rare Jedi talent known as "Battle Meditation". It allowed Bastila to telepathically affect the morale of a battle; she could inspire courage in the hearts of her allies and despair in those of her enemies. Really, thought Lysias, he couldn't blame the Sith for wanting so badly to capture or kill Bastila; he would probably do the exact same thing were he in their position.

Bastila had also gained fame a year previous for leading the strike team that had killed Darth Revan. Revan had been Dark Lord of the Sith, and Darth Malak, the current Sith leader, had been his apprentice. Both had once been Jedi, and had led the Republican forces to victory in the Mandalorian Wars several years earlier, only to turn to the Dark Side, and against the Republic. In a trap set for the Sith Lords, Bastila and her team of Jedi had boarded Revan's ship, and engaged the Sith Lord in combat. However, Darth Malak, Revan's apprentice, had seized the opportunity to usurp his master, and ordered his ship to fire upon Revan's. Revan, caught by complete surprise, had perished, as had Bastila's Jedi companions. Bastila, on the other hand, being exceptionally gifted in the Force, managed to survive, and brought news of Revan's demise to the galaxy.

Lysias' thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration at his waist. He looked down to see his silver communicator—a handheld device through which the ship's officers were able to send orders to the rest of the crew remotely—glowing softly. Likewise, Trask and the soldier's communicators were behaving in a similar fashion. They stopped moving and, detaching the devices from their belts, held them up, looking into the small screen that was fitted into each communicator.

A moment later the screens flickered to life, and the image of a man in his mid-30's, with dark brown hair and a goatee, came to view. The man began to speak, his speech hurried but authoritative. "This is Carth Onasi. I have secured the escape pods, but we don't have much time. The Sith have completely overwhelmed the Endar Spire. All crew members must make for the escape pods as soon as possible. Do not try and use the entrance on the command bridge, I've already sealed the blast doors to prevent the Sith from getting in. Use the hidden entrance instead. You all need to hurry; the blast doors won't hold the Sith for long." And with that the transmission ended, the screen on Lysias' communicator fading to black.

"Who was that?" Lysias asked, reattaching his communicator to his belt.

"That was Carth Onasi," answered Trask. "He's a decorated soldier from the Mandalorian Wars, and one of the Republic's best pilots. If he says it's time to abandon ship, then we need to abandon ship!"

"What about Bastila?"

"She's probably already evacuated in an escape pod. Now come on, we need to keep moving!"

The trio resumed their previous pace, and Lysias couldn't help but notice that the explosions rocking the ship were increasing in both intensity and frequency. This knowledge added a little more speed to his step; he certainly would prefer that the ship _not_ explode before he was off it.

"We're almost there," panted Trask. "We've taken a side route to avoid the Sith, and around this corner is the room with the hidden passage that Carth." Rounding the corner, the three men approached the door that Trask had described. As they drew near to it, Lysias had a sudden sense of foreboding. The soldier quickly darted forward and entered the access code on a keypad next to it. The keypad beeped, and the door slid open.

Red light flared, accompanied by a low humming noise. In the middle of the room stood a tall man dressed all in black, with a shaved head and evil expression. And clutched in his right hand, identical crimson blades of plasma extending from either end of it, was a lightsaber. "A dark Jedi," gasped Trask, taking an involuntary step back. Lysias' eyes narrowed. This wasn't good. Jedi were among the most fearsome warriors in the galaxy. Their lightsabers could cleave through almost any known substance, and they exerted control of a mysterious power known as "the Force". To have a Jedi as an ally was in many ways much like having a demigod on one's side. And conversely, to face one as an enemy spelled almost certain doom. From the looks of this one, thought Lysias, he definitely fell among the latter.

The dark Jedi sneered at them, his red lightsaber casting a red glow upon his face. "Well, well," he said, his deep voice carrying across the room, "It seems that I was right to come here." He held up a silver communicator; he had obviously taken it from the corpse of a Spire crew member. Clearly he had heard Carth mention the hidden entrance to the escape pod room.

"How did you know the hidden entrance was in this room?" Trask asked angrily, although it did nothing to mask the fear in his face.

The dark Jedi chuckled. "Well, once some of my men had hacked into this ship's computer system, we downloaded a schematic. It wasn't difficult to deduce where your secret passageway would be. In any case," and now a truly malicious glint shown in his eyes, "shall you die all at once, or one at a time?" He gestured with his lightsaber to emphasize the point.

"W-Why, you!" Stammered the soldier, and with shaky hands he aimed his Sith blaster at the man.

"No, stop!" shouted Lysias, knowing exactly what was about to happen. But it was too late. The soldier squeezed the blaster's trigger, and the weapon fired at the dark Jedi.

In one blurred motion, the dark Jedi raised his lightsaber to protect himself, and the laserbolt hit one of its plasma blades and rebounded. The soldier didn't even have a chance to gasp in surprise before he was struck between the eyes, a hole burned through his head. Dying instantly, he clattered to the ground in a heap.

The dark Jedi let out a roar of laughter. "One down," he commented, grinning broadly.

Dammit, Lysias thought to himself. None of them stood a chance against this man, and now just he and Trask were left. "Lysias," Trask whispered suddenly, keeping his eyes on the dark Jedi as he spoke. His tone seemed strangely calm in spite of their predicament.

Lysias resisted the urge to glance sideways at Trask. "What?" he asked, lowering his voice so that the dark Jedi wouldn't hear him.

"Lysias, there's no way that we're both getting out of this alive. Do you—do you think that you would be able to get to the hidden entrance on the other side if I distract him? It's voice activated; the password is 'Mandalore'."

Lysias' eyes widened in shock. "What are you talking about?" he hissed back. "Distract him? He'll kill you."

"We have no choice!" Lysias could sense the tension in the other man, hear the grinding of his teeth. "Look," Trask said, still whispering, "We'll charge him together, and you'll cross behind me at the last second to get around him. I'm no match for him, but with the cortosis weave on my vibroblade, I should be able to hold him off long enough for you to get to the passageway. Come on, we need to act now, before he decides to attack us!"

And indeed, the dark Jedi was regarding them thoughtfully, his head tilted in curiosity; he was unable to hear what they were saying, but obviously was aware that they were planning something. "Now what are you two up to?" He asked, smiling maliciously. "You're not planning on running away now, are you? Go right ahead; I'd enjoy the pursuit…"

"Trask," Lysias quickly whispered, his heart beating frantically with fear, "why me? Why are you sacrificing yourself for me? Surely you're of more worth to the Republic than an ex-smuggler?"

Trask closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he said solemnly, "I have lived my life honorably in service to the Republic, and so I can die without regrets. You, however, have a long path to redemption in front of you. So you must continue on living, so that you might have the chance to atone for your crimes." Lysias was struck by these words. They seemed…odd to him. Trask took another deep, steadying breath, and then said, "Lysias, when you find Bastila Shan, tell her…tell her that Trask Ulgo performed his duty to the very end."

"Alright," Lysias replied, resigning himself to what was to come. They drew their vibroblades, preparing themselves. The dark Jedi in the room cocked an eyebrow in interest.

"On my count," ordered Trask. "Ready…three…two…one…NOW!" The pair dashed into the room, straight at the dark Jedi. Their assailant brought his lightsaber in front of him, preparing to counter their offensive, his dark eyes narrowing in vicious glee. As Trask closed with the man, Lysias dove to one side of him, passing the pair as the dark Jedi blocked Trask's vibroblade.

Recovering his balance and sprinting towards the far wall, Lysias shouted, "Mandalore!" A small section of the wall beeped and retracted into the floor, leaving an opening large enough to permit an adult man to pass through.

"GO LYSIAS!" Trask shouted, as he and the dark Jedi continued their duel, his vibroblade struggling to fend off the humming lightsaber. Lysias threw himself into the passageway and hurtled down it, his way forward guided by luminescent strips set in the floor. Ten seconds later he heard a pitched yell that could only have been Trask's death rattle, and the distinct pounding of boots on metal floor alerted him to the dark Jedi's pursuit.

Coaxing as much speed as he could from his body, Lysias continued through the narrow passageway until a dimly lit door came into view up ahead. Reaching it, Lysias saw that a hand scanner was mounted on it. All but slamming his palm against the screen, sweat trickled down the back of Lysias' neck as the device analyzed his hand in a flash of green light. Meanwhile he heard the thundering footfalls behind him drawing nearer.

After several agonizing, panic-stricken moments, the scanner beeped and the door slid open, allowing in blinding light from the outside. Lysias leapt through the opening, the doorway closing as soon as he had passed through. Taking several seconds to catch his breath and allow his eyes to adjust to the lighting, Lysias sensed movement to his left. Glancing sideways, he saw Carth Onasi, dressed in a leather jacket, staring at him. "Are there more crew members behind you?" he asked urgently.

"What? No, I'm the only one," replied Lysias, still trying to catch his breath. "We need to leave though, there's a dark Jedi right behind me—"

As if right on cue, a red lightsaber burned through the hidden entrance's door, and began carving a hole in the thick steel. "Right," said Carth, paling at the sight of the red beam. "Here, into the escape pod." He gestured at the side of the room, where several open hatch doors led into what Lysias presumed were the escape pods. They quickly ducked into one of them, finding a cramped space with two harnessed chairs and a set of electronic controls. As they strapped themselves in, Carth pressed a button to initiate the pod's ejection sequence; the hatch behind them closed and sealed shut. "Bastila's already escaped to the planet below."

"Which planet is that?" Lysias asked, checking to make sure that he was secure in his harness.

"It's Taris," Carth replied, "you'll see when we land. Oh by the way, what's your name soldier?"

"Lysias."

A loud crash from the room behind them revealed that the dark Jedi had managed to get through to door. Lysias looked back, fearing that he would cut into their pod with his lightsaber before it was ejected into space. But then their transport lurched forward, and Lysias could see from the indicators on the control panel that they had successfully detached from the Endar Spire. As he breathed a sigh of relief, next to him Carth was monitoring their controls. "Have you ever evacuated in an escape pod before, Lysias?"

There was something about his tone that Lysias found disconcerting. "No," he answered hesitantly. "Why?"

Carth shook his head, and said gravely, "These things don't have the softest of landings. You'd better brace yourself."

And so Lysias watched as the indicator on the control panel measuring the pod's velocity increased. After several minutes, the transport began to shake violently. "We're entering Taris' atmosphere," Carth informed him. Lysias saw the pod's altitude falling drastically on the control panel. He ground himself into his seat as they drew nearer the planet's surface. Five kilometers…four kilometers…three kilometers….two kilometers…one kilometer…blackness…


	2. Chapter 2: Stranded

Disclaimer: All rights to the Star Wars franchise and characters belong to Lucasfilm.

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Stranded<span>

Through clouded vision he watched two combatants engage each other. One was a beautiful young woman with dark hair, and the other a man garbed entirely in black and grey, with his hood raised. Yellow met crimson as their lightsabers collided, although the woman quickly outmatched her opponent, and struck the final blow, cleaving through his chest. As the man fell to the ground, she raised her weapon once more as if to prepare against a further, unseen enemy…

Lysias slowly opened his eyes, his vision unblurring to reveal a small, dark room, with scarcely any furnishings save for two beds—upon one of which he was lying—and a metal workbench. Sitting on a stool beside his bed was the soldier from the Endar Spire with whom he had been in the escape pod…what was his name again? Lysias felt a dull pain in his head, as if it had been knocked against something with a considerable amount of force. The soldier….the soldier….Carth, that was his name. Carth Onasi.

As Lysias turned his head to look at Carth, the goateed soldier, who had been watching him, spoke. "You're awake," he said gently, "finally. I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to."

"Wh-What?" Lysias mumbled groggily, still trying to regain full rein of his mental faculties.

Carth furrowed his brow in worry, and leaned forward, closer to Lysias. "My name is Carth Onasi, we escaped the Endar Spire together, remember?"

Still feeling like he was trapped in a drunken stupor, Lysias replied, "Carth, yes, I remember." He shut his eyes, trying to get control of himself.

"Good," said Carth. "Don't try and get up too quickly, you've been banged up pretty badly." He went on to explain. "Lysias, our escape pod crash landed on Taris. Your harness was defective, and it didn't completely absorb the shock of the impact; you took quite a beating as a result. Luckily there was a nearby doctor who was willing to treat your injuries. He said that while you'll still feel pretty out of it at first, you should be up and running in no time."

"Unnnngh," groaned Lysias, although he was starting to feel better, "defective harness…just my luck…"

Carth chuckled. "You think that's bad," he said, "wait until you hear what our situation is like."

Through much focus and effort, Lysias managed to bring himself into a sitting position. "I had a very strange dream," he muttered, massaging his temples with one hand, and completely disregarding Carth's previous comment.

Carth seemed taken aback by this, but after a moment he replied, "I'm not surprised, really. You've been muttering in your sleep for the past few days."

Lysias looked over at him. "A few days?" he asked. "How long has it been since the crash?"

"About a week," Carth told him. "After I had dragged you from the crash site, the doctor looked after you for two days before allowing me to take you back here. I've been splitting my time between looking after you and scouting out the area."

"And where is 'here', exactly?"

"Like I said, we're on Taris. More specifically, we're in the Upper City. Taris is one enormous city that was primarily built over the span of a century. But since the discovery of new hyperspace routes, it's long been in decline. And for the past hundred years or so, the dichotomy between the rich and poor has been growing. While the nobles live in the upper city, on the tops of skyscrapers, the downtrodden have been forced to the lower levels. From what I've gathered by asking around, gangs have overridden the Lower City, and don't even get me started on the Undercity."

Lysias frowned, looking at Carth quizzically. "And yet somehow I get the feeling it's not just the socioeconomic troubles of this planet that are making you so tense," he said, noting Carth's tightened shoulders and grim expression.

Carth nodded. "The Sith ambushed the Endar Spire because they knew that Bastila Shan was on board. Once they realized that she had escaped to Taris, they destroyed the Spire and invaded the planet. In the past week, Taris has come under a full occupation by the Sith. They've even enacted a planet-wide quarantine to ensure that Bastila is trapped on Taris while they search for her."

"So what you're saying is that we're, what's the expression, in 'enemy territory'?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Lysias let himself fall back onto the bed. "Just my luck," he repeated once more, not a little wryly, however. He sat up again, and began to ponder the situation, chewing on his thumbnail absentmindedly as he did so. "Although," he mumbled, "I suppose this does work in our favor. With legions of Sith troops searching for Bastila, they probably won't bother looking for us. Which means that we should be able to move about relatively freely, provided we don't piss them off, of course."

"Exactly what I was thinking," said Carth. "And that should make _our_ search for Bastila that much easier."

Lysias eyed him sardonically. "Oh, so you're one of _those_ types," he muttered darkly. "Never one to abandon a mission even in dire circumstances, huh?"

Carth's expression grew fierce. "If you're implying that you'd prefer to save your own skin rather than find and rescue Bastila, then you can forget it. I've read your file; you used to be a smuggler before the Republic caught up with you. Well maybe looking out for "number one" worked for you back then, but you're a soldier now, and you can be damned sure that you're going to selflessly serve the Republican cause for as long as you remain under my command."

"_I'm _under _your _command?" Lysias snorted. "And how do figure that one, Carth?"

"Quite simply, aboard the Endar Spire, I served as an advisor to Bastila, who had been put in charge of the ship. You on the other hand are a raw recruit. Therefore, I outrank you."

"You mean you outranked me on the Endar Spire. But I do believe any official post you held on that ship expired when it did. Now you and I are just two soldiers stranded on a Sith-controlled planet."

Carth clenched his jaw as he tried to work out a response to this. "I should have realized that the minute the chips were down, you'd turn tail and run," he said after a moment. "You smuggler types always do. You're nothing but a coward. And after all I did to save your life…"

Lysias chuckled, unfazed by the other man's remarks. "Save your guilt trip, Carth. I never explicitly said that I wouldn't look for Bastila, I was just making a comment on your character." He couldn't help but smirk at Carth's look of astonishment at these words. "Look, you said that the Sith have imposed a planet-wide quarantine. That probably means that any ships that attempted to leave Taris without some sort of authorization would be vaporized before they'd even managed to clear the atmosphere. Being a Jedi, Bastila probably would have a good idea on how to circumvent the quarantine. Therefore, even if I _was_ the selfish coward that you seem to have taken me for, it would still be in my best interest to help you find her."

"And you're saying that you're _not_ a selfish coward?" Carth asked, looking half embarrassed and half perturbed at having overreacted.

Lysias shrugged nonchalantly. "I certainly wouldn't call myself a coward, but neither am I well disposed towards risking my life needlessly. I like to think that I take a pragmatic approach to these sorts of things."

"Mhm," Carth said, "and as for being selfish?"

Lysias smiled at him. "Well," he replied in an amused tone, "I do rather like myself."

Carth rolled his eyes at this, and Lysias thought he heard the man mutter, "Narcissistic pretty boy…"

Lysias chuckled and stood up from the bed, stretching his limbs as he did so. He was still a little sore, but the pain in his head had receded enough for him to be comfortable. "You said we were in the Upper City," he told Carth, who was gazing up at him from the stool. "Where specifically are we in the Upper City?"

Carth now stood up too, so that his eyes were level with Lysias'. "We're in a low end apartment building," he explained, rubbing his goatee and frowning. "These apartments are mostly empty, so some of the poorer citizens have taken up squatting in these rooms. There are also a number of illegal aliens here."

"Illegal aliens?" Lysias inquired, walking over to the metal workbench to pick up his blaster—his vibroblade must have been lost in the crash.

Carth nodded. "Taris is a highly socially stratified society. Wealthy humans are on top, with most aliens and poorer humans being confined to the lower city levels. It's despicable prejudice if you ask me."

"Agreed," said Lysias. "However, moving among the lower rungs of society can have its advantages. The filth of a society tends to know the what goes on in the shadows. The aliens in this apartment building, and certainly the residents of the Lower City, will probably know something about Bastila's whereabouts."

"A good point." Then Carth paused, as if pondering something. "And now that I think about it, your file also showed that you're fluent in a number of alien languages. That should come in handy when we're dealing with aliens on this planet. It's a bit surprising though, a talent like that is pretty rare in a raw recruit."

Lysias shrugged again. "When you're shipping illicit goods all over the galaxy, you deal with a lot of different species. You pick up certain things."

"Makes sense, I guess…" Carth replied, although now he was looking at Lysias with what almost seemed to be suspicion.

"Yes?" inquired Lysias, raising one eyebrow.

"Nothing," said Carth quickly, shifting his gaze to peer at the door. "In any case, we should get going."

They exited the room to find themselves in a large steel hallway that appeared to loop around in one great circle. Lysias could see several aliens moving along through the hallway. Two Duros were headed their way, their red eyes contrasting sharply with their leathery, blue-green skin. "Have you asked them about Bastila yet?" he inquired of Carth, gesturing at the Duros.

"No," Carth replied, "but I've already found out that the other escape pods from the Spire crash landed in the lower levels of the city. We should probably find a way down there."

"Sounds like a plan. Off we go then."

But as Carth and Lysias began to walk towards the apartment building's exit, booted footfalls pounded along the steel hallway. "Stop right there!" a harsh voice sounded, and Lysias' hand instinctively went for his blaster. He restrained himself, however, as four armored Sith soldiers came into view, directing their weapons at the passing Duros.

The Duros turned around to face the soldiers, their lipless mouths open in confusion and surprise. "What do you want?" one of them asked, speaking in Galactic Basic, the lingua franca of the galaxy.

"You two _aliens_ are living in the Upper City illegally. We're here to collect a "compensatory fine" for your transgressions."

The Duros became very agitated at this, so much so that he switched to his native tongue, Durese. Lysias was still able to understand him, however. "You Sith have already extorted us this week!" he proclaimed.

The Sith soldier leading the group looked disgusted. "How _dare_ you address us in that dirty language of yours. We are Sith soldiers, and we demand respect!" Before anyone could react, he raised his rifle and shot the Duros in the chest. Keeling over, the alien fell to the ground, his wound clearly fatal.

"Hey!" Carth shouted, and he reached for his blaster. But Lysias was a step ahead of him. When the Sith had first raised his weapon, Lysias reacted instantly, drawing his blaster. He felled two of the other Sith soldiers before they could react, dropped his blaster, and dove at the leader, leaving Carth to shoot the remaining one. The lead soldier turned his gun towards Lysias, but before he could pull the trigger Lysias had seized the barrel and shoved it to the side. He slammed his other hand into the soldier's windpipe with enough force to crush it, and wrenched the rifle from the Sith's hands as the latter stumbled backwards.

The soldier sank to the ground, grasping at his throat as he suffocated, gazing up at Lysias in disbelief. Lysias watched him dispassionately, looking from the soldier to the dead Duros so as to clearly indicate for what crime he was being punished. Wild panic melded with fear on the soldier's face, his attempts to draw breath foiled by the damage done to his neck. A moment later his struggles ceased as Lysias discharged the captured rifle into the man's chest.

He then turned to look at the second Duros, who was kneeling at the side of his murdered companion. "Poor Ixgil," the Duros muttered. "He should have realized that the Sith would be looking for any excuse to resort to violence. Thankfully you two were here to step in and help." He nodded to Lysias and to Carth in appreciation.

"It was our pleasure, believe me," said Carth, handing Lysias the blaster that he had dropped. "Though I'm sorry we weren't able to act in time to save Ixgil."

"It's alright. You did more than what I would have expected from two human strangers."

"We should probably do something about these bodies," Lysias noted, eyeing the four fallen soldiers, and the pools of blood that were spreading from their still forms.

"I'll take care of that," replied the Duros. "It's the least I can do after all your help. I'll dispose of them somewhere far away from here. That should throw the Sith authorities off of our trail for a while."

"We appreciate it," Carth told him.

The Duros squinted curiously at the pair of them. "You two aren't just average Tarisians, are you? You're skilled fighters, even by mercenary standards. You wouldn't happen to be some of those Republic soldiers who crash landed here a week ago, would you?"

"Not at all," Lysias responded smoothly. "We're just two guys with a penchant for helping those in need, that's all. We have _no_ connection to the Republic whatsoever." He gave the Duros a meaningful look.

The alien's lipless mouth stretched into a smile. "Whatever you say. These are dangerous times for anyone on Taris to identify themselves as enemies of the Sith, but you should know that there are many who resent this occupation, and _many_ more who resent the quarantine."

"Thanks for the advice," said Carth, smiling at the Duros. "Well, we should get going."

"Yes, go on and 'help those in need.'" The alien chuckled. "And don't worry about these bodies. I'll see to it that they're far removed from this place soon enough."

"Good luck," Lysias told him, and then he and Carth moved past the dead Sith soldiers and towards the apartment building's exit.

"Well that went well," Lysias commented as he and Carth exited the apartment complex. They emerged onto a sunlit street on the top of what appeared to be a giant skyscraper. All around them Tarisian citizens strolled by, going about their daily business.

"I'd hardly call that a good start," replied Carth dryly. He gestured for Lysias to follow him, and the pair began moving about the crowds. All around them Lysias could hear pieces of conversations, some involving the Sith and their occupation, others the latest Tarisian fashions.

"What are you talking about Carth?" said Lysias brightly, although he dropped his voice so that no one could overhear. "We helped someone in need and killed four Sith soldiers in the process; I'd call that an excellent start to our partnered adventure."

"You call it an adventure, I call it a fight for our lives."

"Tomato, tomato," shot back Lysias with a grin. "What you call work I call fun."

"You call killing four armed men 'fun'?" Carth looked incredulous. "Although perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised…" He was gazing at Lysias as he had been in the apartment, with a subtle amount of suspicion.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" inquired Lysias, picking up on his expression.

"Well," began Carth hesitantly, "you know what you did back there. You practically took out that entire Sith group by yourself."

"What's your point?"

"Surely you must realize how that looked to me. Even on the Endar Spire, when I was watching your progress on the video monitors; I saw you kill four armed troops singlehandedly. Clearly you have the skills of an elite mercenary. Now combine that with your prodigious facility with languages, and tell me what you make of it."

"What can I say? I'm a talented individual." spoke Lysias in deadpan.

"Clearly," muttered Carth, visibly irritated. "Furthermore, your transfer to the Spire was specially requested by Bastila herself."

"Bastila requested me personally?" echoed Lysias, his cheerful wit displaced by this sudden revelation.

Carth nodded. "That she did," he said. "So why don't you tell me what you think. A raw recruit with your kind of talent, singled out by one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. And then you just _happen_ to be one of the select few crewmembers of the Endar Spire to survive the attack. It just doesn't add up."

By this point they had stopped in front of one of the many street shops. Above the entrance doors shone the words "Droids by Janice". But Lysias wasn't paying any attention to the sign. "What are you saying Carth?" he asked, annoyance creeping into his tone. "If you think I had anything to do with the attack-"

"That's not what I'm getting at," Carth interjected hastily. His brow was furrowed as he struggled to find the right words. "Look," he said, "I'm not making any accusations against you. But at the same time, and don't take this personally, I just can't trust you."

"Gee Carth," said Lysias, his sarcastic tone returning, "how could I ever take that personally?"

"I'm being serious. And it's not just you, I don't trust anyone."

"And was there a cause for this, or were you just born with a general lack of faith in your fellow man?"

Carth glared at him. "I have my reasons," he returned sharply.

Lysias cocked an eyebrow. "Do you plan to share with the group?"

"No, I don't," cut back Carth. "And anyway, this isn't about me, it's about you."

"You're the one who's having trust issues here Carth, not me."

"It shouldn't be a problem. Like you said before, it's in both of our best interests that we find Bastila and then get off this planet. I have no problem working with you to achieve that goal. But just know that I'm watching you."

"Feel free," commented Lysias. "I get that a lot, you know. Oh the woes of being attractive…"

"That's not what I meant-" began Carth, once again looking outraged, but Lysias simply chuckled at his partner's reaction and continued his way down the road. "Hey!" yelled Carth, moving to catch up with him. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"To get a drink," Lysias responded shortly. "Talking to you is giving me a headache."


	3. Chapter 3: Dueling Ring

Disclaimer: All rights to the Star Wars franchise and characters belong to Lucasfilm.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3: Dueling Ring<span>

Lysias eventually found his way to a nearby cantina, Carth resignedly trailing behind him. Passing a Sith guard stationed at the entrance, the two men strode inside, and were greeted by relaxing music and dimmed lights. All around them Tarisians were conversing, some with drinks in their hands, others with strange, fuming pipes. Off to the side in several curtained enclaves, Lysias could hear the sounds of roving hands and muffled moans, as male and female bodies shifted against each other pleasurably. So this was the Tarisian high life, he thought in cynical amusement.

Lysias strode towards the center of the multi-roomed complex, completely ignoring a challenge from one of the cantina's patrons to a round of Pazaak. A card game popular throughout the galaxy, he had played it a few times with some of the crew aboard the Endar Spire. Although mostly a game of chance, he had found himself to be quite adept at it, and had yet to lose. However, at the moment he was not in the mood.

Reaching the bar, Lysias leaned over the counter and called to the bartender, a burly man with a thick mustache. "A glass of Tarisian ale, if you please," he said. The bartender nodded to him and began pouring his drink.

"What are you doing?" Carth demanded, moving to stand next to him. "We need to conserve our funds, we aren't exactly up to our ears in credits at the moment."

"Relax Carth," replied Lysias as the bartender handed him his drink. "In a place like this, there are plenty of ways to make money." He tilted the glass up and let the cold liquid slide pleasantly down his throat.

Carth appeared to want to berate him further, but instead said, "Well fine, you enjoy your drink. I'm going to go ask around and see if anyone knows how to get to the lower levels of the city."

"You do that," Lysias told him, looking down at his drink. Carth muttered something unintelligible—he was sure it was insulting—and walked off. Alone at the bar, Lysias swirled the ale in his glass, taking the occasional sip. All around him Tarisians were talking, and loud laughter and shouts bombarded his ears. But he hardly took notice, too engrossed in his own thoughts. Bastila Shan had personally requested his transfer aboard the Endar Spire. Why was that? As Carth had said, he was extraordinarily talented, especially for a simple Republic footman, but even so, such talents alone shouldn't have been enough to draw the attention of a Jedi as powerful as Bastila…

"Well well," interjected a confident, sultry, feminine voice, breaking him out of his reverie. "Tarisian ale; I'm impressed. That stuff's pretty strong."

Lysias turned around to see a shapely red haired woman walking toward him. A badge on her otherwise plain grey shirt marked her as an off-duty Sith patrolman. "Is it now?" he asked, a playful smile curling his lips. It occurred to him that the woman might be party of an elaborate assault by the Sith upon Carth and himself—they had, after all, killed four soldiers not two hours earlier—but Lysias could think of a simpler, and therefore more likely, explanation. The woman had matched his smirk with a coy grin of her own. Her brown eyes had fixated on Lysias' face, moving only once to quickly glance at his body, which was dressed in dark, nondescript clothing. Lysias' smirk widened. Oh the woes of being attractive.

"It is," replied the woman, coming to stand next to him. "Have too much of it and you'll be on the floor."

"Speaking from personal experience?"

The woman chuckled. "In a way. I've had to drag more than a few of my fellow patrolmen back to the base after a long night."

Lysias took another sip of the ale. It was a potent drink, to be sure, but he had always found himself to have a surprisingly high tolerance. Back when he was a smuggler, he would often put that tolerance to good use whenever he stopped by local gambling dens. "I had no idea the Sith were such heavy drinkers," he said, now eyeing the woman in return. She had a very pretty face, with angular cheekbones and luscious red lips, to say nothing of her voluptuous figure.

"Well normally we aren't," she told him while continuing to smile, obviously pleased that he had identified her as a Sith soldier and was still perfectly comfortable with talking to her, "but when we're off duty, some of us just like to _cut loose_." There was a look in her eyes that reminded Lysias of the curtained enclaves he had passed on his way in. He raised his glass to his lips once more, maintaining eye contact with her even as he drank; as he did so, he analyzed her.

This woman was clearly looking for a "good time"; as supremely confident as Lysias was in his ability to attract others to himself, even _he_ was a little surprised at her forwardness. In his experience (of which he possessed no small amount), for a woman to be making herself this available to a complete stranger, there had to be some pressing emotional factor lying just beneath the surface. Lysias' mind worked quickly to discern what this was. It wasn't terribly difficult. A female Sith officer practically throwing herself at him during the first week of an intense Sith occupation and quarantine of the planet, acts which naturally had caused mass public resentment towards her faction: she was most likely overstressed from her patrol duties, and emotionally overwhelmed at being stationed on a foreign planet that was fairly hostile toward her. And now that he had pinpointed her mindset, Lysias could use it to his advantage in two ways: one, this woman could potentially provide him with information on the Siths' efforts to locate Bastila, thus giving him and Carth a better idea of where to look. And two, well, who was to say that he couldn't provide her with the stress relief that she was obviously seeking from him? It was only fair, considering how much she would be unwittingly aiding him in his search for Bastila. That he would enjoy doing so, and most likely piss off Carth in the process, were but added benefits.

"Bartender," Lysias spoke, still keeping his gaze focused on the woman, "a drink for the lady, please. Another glass of Tarisian ale."

As the bartender moved to fill Lysias' order, the woman smiled pleasantly, touching his arm lightly with her left hand. "That's very kind of you…er…?"

"Lysias," he filled in smoothly.

"Well thank you Lysias," she said, shooting him yet another flirtatious look. "My name's Sarna. I must say Lysias, I'm a little surprised that you're willing to talk to a Sith officer. Most everyone on this damned planet hates us."

There was just the faintest note of bitterness in her voice, and Lysias saw his opportunity as the bartender handed Sarna her drink. "Well for starters, I'm an offworlder," he told her as she sipped the ale. "So I'll be able to get out of here when the quarantine is lifted. Until then I'm just treating this as an extended vacation. I have no real reason to hate the Sith; they've done a remarkable job of keeping peace and order on Taris despite the invasion."

"We are nothing if not brilliantly efficient at what we do," Sarna replied proudly. "And it's not as if we're here to kill everyone; sure we're waging war on the Republic, but once we've conquered a planet, we try to run things as cleanly as possible."

Lysias nodded. "I feel like there are a lot of benefits that Sith rule brings that you don't get credit for."

"Exactly," said Sarna, looking very much as if Lysias was the first logical person she had met in years. "We've already streamlined trade between the planets that we've conquered; it's all licensed out to Czerka Corporation, and while they're a little corrupt, they still get the job done better than most."

"Right, but no one thinks about those sorts of things when it comes to the Sith," continued Lysias, noting that Sarna had already worked through half of her ale. "And besides all the decisions of who to attack and where to invade, those are made by the higher-ups. You're just a soldier following orders, it's not like you asked to be stationed here."

"_Finally_, someone who can see things from my perspective," Sarna exclaimed, draining the remainder of her ale. "I mean, I can realize why these people here are upset with the occupation and quarantine, but I'm just doing my job. I don't want to be on this backwater planet any more than they want me to."

"And yet you have to make the best of your situation."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. It's all about attitude! Here we all are, forced into a situation that none of us wants. But nothing is going to change anytime soon, so we might as well figure out a way to deal with it." Her gaze had become just slightly unfocused, enough for Lysias, who by now had finished his drink and still felt almost entirely fine, to know that the alcohol was having a far more pronounced effect on her than it was having on him.

Knowing that his moment could be at hand, he leaned toward her and asked, "There's one thing that confuses me, though."

"What is it?" Sarna asked, clearly ecstatic at having found someone who sympathized with her situation.

Lysias put on a face of what he knew would appear as innocent curiosity. "Since Taris is such a backwater planet like you said, then why did the Sith conquer it? Does it have some sort of strategic importance?"

"No," she told him. "That's what's most irritating about being here. Taris itself is of no use to us. We're only here to hunt down a Republican fugitive."

"One from the escape pods that crash landed a week ago?"

"Exactly. Apparently it's some Jedi that Malak wants either captured or killed. He has entire squadrons searching the lower levels of the planet."

"He's _that_ determined to find this Jedi?" Lysias asked. He let out a low whistle. "They must be powerful." He motioned to the bartender to bring them more ale.

"From what I've heard, she—the Jedi is a woman—is. Oh, thank you," she said as she and Lysias accepted their new glasses from the bartender.

Lysias continued to press his advantage; he had Sarna right where he wanted her. "But wouldn't Malak be worried that a Jedi as powerful as this woman you're searching for might find a way to escape from the lower levels and hide out here in the Upper City?"

Sarna, drinking her ale, shook her head. "No," she went on, swallowing. "Or rather, yes he is worried, but no, it's not really much of a possibility. Travel from the lower levels of Taris to the Upper City or vice versa has been strictly prohibited; only those who have official Sith approval can do so. We have her trapped down there, so it's only a matter of time before we find her. I'm actually headed down to the Lower City tomorrow morning with my squadron. It'll make a nice change after being stuck at the Military Base for the past week. Plus I'll get a chance to watch the season opener of the Galactic Swoop Race Circuit that's in two days."

Swoop racing was a speeder sport popular on many planets within the galaxy. Competing racers would navigate tracks one at a time, directing their swoop bikes towards booster pads that would increase their speed while avoiding obstacles set in the terrain. While very much a decaying planet long past its prime, Taris was still renowned throughout space as being one of the best swoop racing planets.

"The season opener is in two days?" commented Lysias, affecting surprise in his voice. "I didn't realize it was so soon. Damn, I really wanted to go to that."

Sarna smiled mischievously, setting her half-empty glass back on the bar. She leaned closer so that their faces were inches apart. "Oh do you now?" she asked him, and her sensual smile was back. "I could probably get you clearance to go down to the Lower City, although you'll have to ask me nicely."

Lysias smirked and brushed aside some crimson hair that had fallen in front of Sarna's eyes. "Hmm," he rumbled, "how nicely?"

He leaned in to kiss her, but then a sudden, booming voice sounded from the cantina's speakers. "PATRONS, TRAVELERS, SITH OFFICERS, WELCOME ONE, WELCOME ALLLLL!" Those around them began murmuring excitedly in reaction to the pronouncement. Lysias shot an irritated glance at the speakers. What the hell was going on? "CANTINA CUSTOMERS, IT IS OUR GREAT PLEASURE TO ANNOUNCE THAT IN EXACTLY THREE HOURES, BEGINNING AT DUSK, THE DUELING RING AND ITS CHAMPIONS WILL BE ACCEPTING CHALLENGES. GLORY, FAME, AND MAYYYBE EVEN WEALTH! THESE CAN ALL BE YOURS! DO YOU HAVE THE SKILL, THE COURAGE, AND THE FORTITUUUUDE? DO YOU DARE TO STEP INTO THE RING? IN THREE HOURS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE WILL FIND OUT!"

The cantina erupted in cheers, as nearly everyone began hurrying to one of the back rooms. "Dueling ring?" Lysias asked in confusion.

Sarna tugged at him impatiently. "Come on, let's go watch!"

"Oh, okay," he responded, paying the bartender for the drinks before reluctantly allowing her to drag him toward the crowd. After wading through hordes of people, they came to a series of elevators that were apparently shuttling everyone to a lower level.

"There you are," came a voice at Lysias' right. Carth had reappeared.

"Carth, what's going on?"

"The dueling ring is famous on Taris," Carth explained as he, Lysias and Sarna piled into one of the elevators. The doors closed and they began to descend. "A lot of mercenaries come here to compete in the ring, hoping to make a name for themselves. Before death matches were outlawed, Bendak Starkiller became a legend, amassing over a hundred victories before retiring."

"Lysias," Sarna cut in, now clinging to his arm, "who's your friend?"

"Oh right, sorry, Sarna, this is Carth, Carth, this is Sarna."

"A-A pleasure to meet you," Carth said, missing a beat as he noticed her Sith badge.

Even intoxicated, Sarna didn't miss the hesitation. "Lysias, it appears your friend doesn't like that I'm a Sith officer." Her tone sounded with mock offense, which took Lysias by surprise. Although he was merely using this woman to advance his quest to locate Bastila, he had to admit, she was turning out to be a very fun person to be around.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about him Sarna," Lysias told her, wry amusement coloring his tone, "he doesn't trust anyone—not even me. The guy has some unresolved issues." He glanced over at Carth and noted with great satisfaction his words had visibly annoyed the man.

The elevator came to a stop, and with an electronic beep the doors parted to reveal a large hallway lined with hordes of hurrying bodies. The corridor seemed to go on in either direction, wrapping around corners to form what Lysias assumed was a giant square. Along the inner steel wall of the hallway were arched openings. Detaching himself from Sarna and walking over to one, Lysias peered inside to see a breathtakingly large stadium, lined with row after row of padded seats. In each seating section stood a worker and a mounted computer. In the center, at the very bottom, was a huge arena covered in sand: the dueling ring. Lysias could see thousands of men and women—there had to be more entrances to this place than just the cantina—walking along the various rows, vying for prime seating.

"Come on Lysias, let's hurry and get good seats," Sarna urged, once more hooking her arm around his. Carth had also followed from the elevator.

"Do we not need to buy tickets?" he asked.

"Admission to the dueling ring is free," came a low, scratchy voice from Lysias' left. Lysias turned to see a creature with an appearance similar to a giant dark green slug. It had massive, bulbous blue eyes set in its head and a wide, froglike mouth. It had two fully articulated humanoid arms that were clutching and electronic pad, while the lower half of its body ended in a thick tail that was strewn on the floor underneath it. It was a Hutt, a species of notoriously greedy, ruthless gangsters who had large dealings in the criminal underworld; Lysias had run across several of them in his time as a smuggler. If there was a Hutt present at so violent a venue of entertainment as a dueling ring, then he could be almost certain that it was the owner.

"That is uncharacteristically generous of a Hutt," Lysias replied in Huttese, the Hutts' native tongue, and the language in which this particular Hutt had spoken to him.

The Hutt chuckled at Lysias' remark, a great throaty rumble that made his skin crawl. "Why charge for tickets when we can simply let the people gamble away their credits instead?" The Hutt gestured at the workers standing by the mounted computers in the stadium. Lysias saw that they were now taking what he assumed to be bets from the countless spectators.

"Clever," he said, now himself chuckling. By allowing anyone in for free, gambling profits could be maximized. Hutts were nothing if not extremely business savy.

"So, what about you?" the Hutt asked him.

Lysias turned to look back at the enormous creature. "Sorry, what?" he replied.

The Hutt opened its gaping maw once more. "Are you here to watch or to fight?"

"We're just here to watch," Sarna told the Hutt, although she had to use Basic. Most people could understand Huttese, but not many could speak it.

"It's a shame," the Hutt said, surveying Lysias, "I know fighters when I see them kid, and you've got potential. Plus you could make a lot of credits if you win…"

Lysias knew the Hutt was trying to rope him in, whether he was a skilled fighter or not. Fortunately for him though, he was. "What's the dueling format, and how much will I be paid?" he demanded of the Hutt.

This time the Hutt let out a great, bellowing laugh. "Confident, aren't you? Well, here's how it works. Tonight is Challenger's Night, so anyone can enter to fight. You can either enter to fight another challenger, which is free, or pay to fight one of our champions. Each match is vibroblade combat, with the weapons blunted and configured to stun upon contact rather than to kill; death matches are illegal now, so you don't have to worry about dying. Also, we have medical droids on standby in case you get roughed around too much. If you win a fight against another challenger, you 100 credits. If you defeat one of our champions, you get your entry free back plus a cut of the gambling profits that we make from your match. A great deal, if you ask me."

"Uh-huh," commented a skeptical Carth, also speaking in Basic. "And how much is the entry fee?"

"I'll be honest with you," rumbled the Hutt, "it's pretty steep, but that's mainly because we don't want just _anyone_ challenging our champions. They have to be confident enough in their abilities to be willing to make a substantial investment in themselves. It's the best way for us to try to give our champions some exciting match-ups. They don't want to waste their time bashing a bunch of weaklings all night, you know? But you don't have to worry about the entry fee unless your friend here wants to challenge one of our champions."

"Oh you bet I do," said Lysias immediately.

The Hutt roared with guttural laughter. "I like you kid. You've got spunk. Alright, so we currently have five champions. In order of worst to best, there's Deadeye Duncan, Gerlon Two-Fingers, Ice, Marl, and Twitch. The price for dueling goes up depending on who you want to face. It ranges from five hundred for Duncan to twenty-five hundred for Twitch. I should warn you that these are all very experienced duelists, and even Duncan, who's the weakest of the bunch, is still good enough to take out your average mercenary or bounty hunter. So who will it be?"

"How many people have challenged them so far?" Lysias inquired curiously.

"There are a dozen or so challengers who have paid to fight Deadeye Duncan, seven or eight for Gerlon, three for Ice, one for Marl, and no one yet for Twitch," the Hutt told him, consulting the electronic pad.

"And Twitch is your best fighter? I'll challenge him then."

Carth drew nearer to Lysias to whisper in his ear. "Are you sure about this? I know you're a great fighter, but this entry fee is going to cost us all our remaining credits."

"Don't worry Carth," Lysias reassured him, "You've seen me in action, I can handle this."

"Alright, just don't be too overconfident," Carth warned him.

Lysias was incredulous. "Where's the fun in that?" he scoffed.

The Hutt, whose name turned out to be Ajuur, took Lysias, Sarna, and Carth to a private viewing box reserved for paying challengers. There they waited until the duels began, and even then it was still a good five hours before Lysias' fight with Twitch was scheduled. After giving Ajuur 2500 credits, the Hutt had informed him that since he was facing the arena's best combatant, the match had been positioned as a grand finale to the night's events. And so Lysias watched, sipping complimentary champagne (when you were paying as much as Lysias was, even a Hutt wasn't as unscrupulous as to not provide first-class treatment) as duel after duel commenced within the sand arena. The challengers who were simply facing other challengers went first, and while most of them were complete novices as fighters, a few clearly had had some basic vibroblade training. Lysias also saw what Ajuur had meant by configuring the weapons to stun only; upon contact, the vibroblades electrocuted the fighter, rendering them temporarily immobile. It was an effective enough non-lethal combat system.

Once all the challenger-challenger matches were completed, the challenger-champion matches began. Those fighting Deadeye Duncan were up first. He was a middle-aged man with black hair that was starting to gray, and he wore an ugly, bitter expression on his face; watching him fight, Lysias could see why. The man was, by professional standards, an absolute failure of a fighter. And Lysias could tell that Duncan knew it, too. He managed to cut down the challengers that had paid to face him, but only just barely. After each match that he won, Duncan would proclaim his immense fighting prowess to the audience, in the nasally, self-indulgent voice of a man who had probably found little success fighting true professionals. Then in Duncan's last match, he made a hasty swing with his vibroblade that left himself wide open, and his fortunate opponent seized the opportunity to catch him in the right side with his own vibroblade. Duncan's body seized up from the resulting electric shock, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Feh," spat Ajuur, who was watching beside Lysias. "And here I thought he might actually go a night without losing. Oh well, this is why I only offer a two percent cut of gambling profits for fighters challenging Duncan. He's too easy to beat."

"What will _my_ cut be for defeating Twitch?" Lysias queried pleasantly, swirling his champagne in his glass.

The Hutt gave another of his throaty guffaws, shifting his bulk to look at Lysias. "You're quite confident. If you manage to beat Twitch, I'll give you twenty percent of the profits. Twitch is the hands-down favorite to win, so if you do knock him out cold, you'll earn yourself _and_ me a fortune. I'm not exactly counting on it though. I like you Lysias, but I've seen Twitch in the arena enough times to know that that Rodian is crazy. And he's that much more dangerous for it."

"We'll see…" was all Lysias said in response. He went back to watching the fights. Gerlon Two-Fingers took his place in the arena after Duncan's limp form was dragged off. Lysias had heard from the other challengers that Gerlon had been a very promising duelist, having the potential of a true champion, until a very unfortunate and a very unlikely blaster malfunction had blown off three of his five fingers from his shooting hand. Since then he had remained a very effective fighter, although sadly he had lost much of his potential. He was, however, able to defeat all of the entrants who had paid to challenge him.

Up next was Ice, a woman with blond hair and a disposition that must have given root to her stage name. She didn't speak a word while in the ring, and walked off soon afterwards, her opponents each having been felled in just a few blows. As she stalked out through one of the many doors lining the arena, an older man entered. His receding gray hair and many battle scars marked him out as a veteran of the sport. He was holding a vibro double-blade, a variant of the traditional vibroblade. As the name suggested, this weapon was composed of two blades protruding from either end of the handle, much like the double bladed lightsaber that the dark Jedi had wielded aboard the Endar Spire. So this was Marl, Lysias thought to himself. He walked with the grace of an old pro, although Lysias could see that he was well past his prime. Still, to be the number two-ranked duelist on Taris, he had to still be fairly skilled.

"Alright Lysias, time to go get ready," Ajuur told him. The Hutt motioned towards the viewing box's door. In addition to two guards that Ajuur had posted at it, there was a third man who was looking expectantly at Lysias. "That man will take you down to the waiting room below the ring. Stay there until we announce your name, and then you'll take a set of stairs that will lead into the arena. Oh, and that reminds me, we're going to give you a stage name to make things more exciting. So for tonight you'll be called the Mysterious Stranger. Trust me, the people will love it."

"That's fine," Lysias acquiesced, handing his champagne glass to a nearby waiter and moving towards the man waiting for him at the door.

"Good luck Lysias!" Sarna called from behind him, standing beside Carth.

"Thanks Sarna!" he told her. "Make sure to root for me Carth!" He could hardly suppress his glee as Carth shot him a disgruntled glance. Carth was clearly unhappy with this whole situation, but he knew how formidable Lysias was in combat, and even he had to admit that they could certainly use the money that they would make off of this fight.

"Mr. Mysterious Stranger, this way if you please," said the man at the door, opening the door for him. Lysias walked through, and then allowed the man to lead him down a series of staircases until they had descended to the level below the arena floor. The man then directed Lysias down a hallway and into the waiting room. Twitch was already there, a Rodian in a yellow jumpsuit. Rodians had scaly green skin, multifaceted eyes, distinctive, conical snouts, and two saucer shaped antennae, used to detect vibrations. They were infamous for their violent natures, and Lysias supposed that it was only natural for one to have found his way to the top of the dueling hierarchy on Taris.

"You are my challenger?" Twitch asked Lysias, his voice full of vibrato as it sounded from his snout. He was speaking in Rodese, the Rodian native tongue, probably as a sign that he did not respect Lysias as a competitor. Which was fine with Lysias; it would make pummeling him that much more satisfying.

"Yes, I'm your challenger," Lysias responded in Rodese. "I'm the Mysterious Stranger, nice to meet you Twitch."

"I don't like you," Twitch told him, "If it weren't for you, I could be up in my personal box watching the fights, but now I have to come down here and defeat you."

"I do apologize for the inconvenience, I promise this won't take long."

"You're right, it won't. One swipe with my vibroblade and _boobow_! You'll wake up in a few hours with a big lump on your head."

"Gentlemen please take your places by the stairs," interjected the man who had led Lysias in. He handed each of them a vibroblade, and pointed two sets of stairs positioned at opposite ends of the room. Above them, Lysias could hear the crowd roar in applause as the announcer proclaimed Marl the winner of his match.

"AAAAND NOW, MEMBERS OF THE AUDIENCE, OUR FINAL MATCH FOR THE NIGHT. ONE OF THE COMBATANTS HAS ALREADY MADE A NAME FOR HIMSELF IN THIS ARENA. YOU'VE WATCHED HIM FIGHT HIS WAY TO THE VERY TOP, BEATING EVERYONE FROM YOUNG GUNS LIKE ICE TO OLD VETS LIKE MARL. HOLD ON TO YOUR SEATS AND STAY BACK FROM THE EDGES OF THE RING! HE'S WILD, HE'S UNPREDICTABLE, HE'S BORDERLINE PSYCHOTIC...AND HE'S THE BEST DAMN DUELIST IN THE GAME TODAY! I GIVE YOU…TWITCH!"

Thunderous cheering erupted as Twitch raced up the stairs, and shook the chamber that Lysias stood in. He understood why fighters like Twitch and Marl were drawn to public arenas like this one: with thousands of fans rooting for them, chanting their names, it had to be exhilarating beyond belief.

"AND NOOOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PREPARE TO MEET THE YOUNG MAN WHO IS SO SURE OF HIS COMBAT SKILLS, SO CERTAIN THAT HE CAN TAKE DOWN OUR GREATEST CHAMPION, THAT HE'S PAID A STAGGERING SUM JUST TO BE ALLOWED TO FIGHT! THERE AREN'T MANY WHO WOULD BE WILLING TO COUGH UP THAT KIND OF DOUGH JUST TO TAKE A BEATING. SO IN A WAY, MAYBE HE'S EVEN CRAZIER THAN TWITCH, HA HA! IN ANY CASE, AUDIENCE MEMBERS, NOW YOU WILL MEET AN INDIVIDUAL WITH NO NAME, HIS PAST SHROUDED IN MYSTERY…..HE'S PUT EVERYTHING ON THE LINE, AND HE HAS EVERYTHING TO PROVE! I GIVE YOU…THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGEEEEER!"

Once more the crowd erupted, although distinctive booing could be heard as Lysias began to mount the staircase. They twisted around once, and led directly up to the arena. Stepping out onto the sand-covered floor, a steel gate closed behind him, blocking the entrance. Lysias looked up around him, and felt countless eyes staring at him, analyzing him, judging him. And standing before him was Twitch, whose eyes had darkened with rage as he glared at this man who had dared to challenge him in his ring, on his stage.

"FIGHTERS, PREPARE YOURSELVES!" called the announcer, who was standing on a large podium just outside the ring. At this, Twitch let out a mighty battle cry, and charged Lysias, the stadium light glinting off of his vibroblade. "LOOK AT HIM GO, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! HE'S REALLY WORKED UP A BLOODLUST TONIGHT! NON-LETHAL MATCH OR NO, I SURE WOULD HATE TO BE THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER RIGHT NOW! A WORD OF ADVICE STRANGER, YOU MAY WANT TO RUN!"

Ignoring the announcer's commentary, Lysias took a few paces away from the arena wall and readied himself for Twitch's assault. The Rodian was screaming horribly as he closed the distance, and a moment later he had thrust his blade directly at Lysias' heart. Lysias immediately parried the attack, and the noise from the crowd was deafening, their hooting and hollering ringing in his ears. Twitch continued his offensive, swinging his blade left and right, attempting to find some angle to drive through, some weakness in Lysias' defense. Lysias for his part was perfectly content to keep the Rodian at bay, perfectly blocking and parrying each of his attacks.

"AND LOOK AT THEM GO! I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I'M SEEING! THE MYSETERIOUS STRANGER IS FENDING OFF TWITCH'S STRIKES! BUT HOW LONG CAN HE KEEP IT UP! YOU CAN'T STAY ON THE DEFENSE FOREEVER, STRAAANGER!"

Lysias smirked at this. He had to admit, the Rodian was good. Not anywhere on his level, of course, but all the same, as far as duelists went, this was one of the better ones that he had fought. Twitch was certainly more talented than the average Republic soldier. He had just enough skill for Lysias to enjoy the sparring match, and did he ever love to spar. There was just something about wielding a blade, about swinging and parrying, thrusting and dodging, that made him feel in his element, far more than he did when using any sort of blaster or rifle. Not that he couldn't wield firearms with deadly skill as well, but they didn't bring him the same sort of satisfaction that this vibroblade did.

Twitch was growing more and more frustrated with each swing of his weapon, each of his attacks rendered useless by Lysias' own bladework. The Rodian's eyes were mad with fury as he continued his assault, his vibroblade blurring as it moved through the air. Lysias moved deftly on the sound-covered ground, silently debating how much longer he should let the match run. Then, as he raised his vibroblade to block an overhead strike from Twitch, something in the crowd caught his eye. It was a man sitting in the third row. He had short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and a hardened jaw, with thick, muscled arms that were crossed over a black shirt and leather vest. He was staring directly at Lysias with cold, calculating black eyes that were following his every movement. And with his gaze came a silent command. End this fight. End it now.

With chilling efficiency, Lysias ducked under Twitch's sword strike and drove his blade into the Rodian's torso. The vibroblade sparked as electricity surged into the champion's body. The Rodian let out a strangled cry before crumpling in a heap onto the arena floor.

The crowd gasped in utter shock. The announcer nearly fell off of his podium in astonishment. A moment later he grabbed at his microphone and yelled, disbelief layering his voice, "THE-THE FIGHT IS OVER! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HAS WON! TWITCH IS DEFEATED! THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER HAS WON!"

The audience roared to life, erupting into a frenzy as it cheered Lysias' stage name: "STRANGER! STRANGER! STRANGER!" Lysias looked up from Twitch's fallen form and felt the energy of the crowd engulf him. But when he glanced back to where he had seen the strange man, he was surprised to find that those calculating black eyes had vanished.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lower City

Disclaimer: All rights to the Star Wars franchise and characters belong to Lucasfilm.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4: The Lower City<span>

All in all, Lysias thought, it had been a good night. He had met an extremely attractive Sith officer who was giving not-so-subtle hints that she would like to come back to his apartment, he had achieved fame and hero worship from the thousands of fans who had watched him soundly defeat the reigning Taris dueling champion, and he had netted close to two hundred thousand credits by winning the match. Ajuur had been beside himself with joy; he confided in Lysias that since no one had expected Twitch to lose, almost the entire stadium had bet on him. The Hutt had never made so much money off of a single match.

It was a further two hours after Lysias had humbled his Rodian opponent before he, Carth, and Sarna exited out the cantina doors. Ajuur had spent a great deal of time after the match trying to contract Lysias to fight in the arena on a weekly basis, promising him all sorts of perks and monetary compensation. Lysias had managed to extract himself from the excited Hutt's presence only by promising to return in the next few days to negotiate his terms. Credits in tow, Lysias sincerely hoped that they would have found Bastila and be off of Taris by then.

"Lysias, I had no idea what a skilled fighter you were!" Sarna told him, her brown eyes shining at him in admiration. "You should really think about signing up with the Sith, they'd give you officer rank immediately, just based on tonight."

"Thanks Sarna, but I'm not sure that the military is for me." Lysias put an arm around her waist as they walked. Things couldn't have been going more perfectly, he thought. Tomorrow Sarna would take him and Carth down to the Lower City, and while she was on patrol, they could further their search for Bastila. Lysias leaned over to whisper in Sarna's ear. "They do have some rather sexy officers though." He felt Sarna shiver against him, not from the nighttime cold, but from desire.

"I don't need to be back at the military base until dawn," she told him, her gaze full of carnal suggestion.

"Hm-mm," uttered Carth, clearing his throat loudly. He was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"You're right Carth," said Lysias, not taking his eyes from Sarna's. "We should check in to the most expensive hotel we can find. Tonight is a night for celebration!"

"That's not what I—" Carth began, but he stopped himself, sighing resignedly. "Alright, fine, have it your way."

"Don't be such a killjoy Carth," said Sarna, as she directed them around a corner and within sight of the most luxurious hotel in the area. She nudged Lysias good-humouredly. "Are you suuure he has to come with us to the Lower City tomorrow? I'm not sure if Swoop Racing would be his thing."

"Nonsense," replied Lysias, fighting to keep a straight face. "Carth has no taste for arena combat, sure, but when it comes to high speed vehicle maneuvering, I speak the truth when I say that no man can cheer with more enthusiasm or gusto."

"I'll take your word for it." Skepticism rang in her voice.

They entered the hotel, and Lysias promptly booked the two highest priced rooms available. He also let slip that he was the Mysterious Stranger, at which point the manager proffered free champagne.

"Well good night Carth," Lysias told his goateed companion outside the latter's room, while Sarna went ahead to, in her words, "get ready" in the suite that she and Lysias were sleeping in. Sleep being a very loose term.

"Yea," muttered Carth irritably. "Hey listen, I know you're having fun with your Sith girlfriend and all, but _please_ tell me that you haven't lost sight of our mission, alright?"

"I'm getting us into the Lower City, aren't I?" Lysias shot back.  
>"And I'm grateful for that, but I just think that you could have gone about it a better way. All this attention that you're drawing to yourself won't exactly help our chances of finding Bastila. I'm just worried that your head isn't completely in the game."<p>

Lysias felt his eyes narrow. "Look, Carth, I'm just as committed to finding her and getting off this planet as you are."

"And I want to believe that, I really do." Carth looked down, his brow furrowed in anxiety.

"But you still don't trust me," stated Lysias shortly.

"No, I don't."

"And you still don't want to explain your reasons for that?"

Now Carth was glaring at him. "No," he said coldly. "I don't."

"Well then you'll excuse me if I don't hang around all night." Lysias turned to leave.

But Carth had one last thing to say. "See you in the morning, then. Enjoy your Sith whore."

The tension that had built between them snapped. Like a coiled snake, Lysias whipped around to slam his fist into Carth's mouth. The other man moved to block him and throw his own punch simultaneously, but Lysias was too quick. He ducked under Carth's swing and grabbed the man's shoulders, pulling Carth into him while bringing his left knee up to collide with the man's stomach. Carth doubled up, the wind knocked out of him. Lysias seized on the opportunity to slam him up against the wall of the hallway. Carth's head flew back and impacted the wall with an unpleasant _thunk._ His expression became disoriented, as well as frightened. Good, Lysias thought, with dark satisfaction. If Carth wouldn't trust him, then he would fear him. It was then that he noticed his reflection in Carth's terrified eyes. And in that reflection, he saw his own eyes, two tiny specks in a miniaturized image of his face. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that he saw a tinge of amber glinting from his normally dark irises.

And then Lysias' heart skipped a beat as he realized precisely what it was that he was doing. He let go of Carth, and backed away, watching as the other man sought to catch his breath. And suddenly Lysias found himself breathing heavily as well, as if he had undergone some great exertion. "I-I'm sorry," he forced out, still hardly daring to believe what had just happened. He quickly turned on his heel and left for his room.

* * *

><p>The night went by, and Lysias, deeply unsettled by what had transpired between him and Carth, gave himself to pleasure with Sarna, drowning his troubled thoughts in her moans of ecstasy. Early the next morning, before the sun had risen, Sarna left to go report at the Sith military base. She told Lysias that he and Carth needed to meet her and her patrol group at a nearby transport elevator that would take them down to the lower levels of the city. "And don't be late," she told him as she collected her clothing, which had been flung to various corners of the room. "It's going to be difficult enough to get permission to bring you down, but it'll be downright impossible to do so if you don't show up on time."<p>

So a few hours later Lysias rose from bed, and after taking a long, hot shower in the suite's expansive bathroom, he got dressed and exited the suite. Sitting next to the door in the hallway was Carth. "How long have you been there?" Lysias asked him, surprise filling his voice.

"Maybe half an hour or so," Carth calmly replied, moving to stand upright. "I wanted to make sure you didn't leave without me." Lysias opened his mouth intending to speak to the contrary, but Carth stopped him. "Um, look" he told Lysias, and his posture became slightly hunched and withdrawn. "About last night…I was wrong to say what I said. About Sarna, and about…you. I haven't given you enough credit for what you've done for this mission; without you I'd still be wandering the streets, searching for a way to get to the Lower City. You've really come through for us, and all I've done in return is show you a lot of distrust. I'm sorry for that."

For once Lysias didn't know what to say. He had been expecting Carth to either confront him angrily about their altercation, demanding an apology, or to pretend that the entire thing hadn't happened. But for _Carth_ to apologize; that was something that Lysias hadn't anticipated. "I-It's alright," Lysias stammered in reply, still a little shocked at Carth's words. "I'm sorry too, for what I did-"

"No," Carth cut in quickly, staring straight into Lysias' eyes. "I've been a pain in the ass this whole time, and I was asking for it last night. There's no need for you to apologize."

"Well…" Lysias hesitated.

Carth smiled. "Look, I know I've said that I don't trust anyone. But last night showed me that if we're ever going to get through this, and rescue Bastila, then I need to start trying. I don't know how it'll work out, but I promise that from now on I'll make an effort to show a little more faith, alright?" He held out his hand.

Lysias stared at it for a moment, registering Carth's words. Then, at last, he broke out into a grin, and clasped Carth's hand with his own. "Alright," he said.

"Good. Now where are we meeting Sarna?"

* * *

><p>Half an hour later the pair had made their way to the transport elevator that Sarna had told Lysias about. Sarna and her patrol squadron hadn't arrived yet. "We're early," Carth noted.<p>

"Better early than late, with the Sith," Lysias divulged with a smirk. "Makes them less angry."

"It doesn't take much," Carth shot back, chuckling. Lysias knew that Carth was purposefully trying to engage him, but he had to say that he rather liked the change in attitude.

The pair waited a further ten minutes before the footfalls of a dozen or so Sith soldiers sounded from around the street corner. A moment later Sarna and her fellow soldiers marched into view, each one of them bearing a heavy assault rifle. Lysias instinctively glanced down at his belt, in which his pistol was holstered. Even with his tremendous skill, he very much doubted that he could take on the entire squadron and live to tell the tale. It was a very good thing that the Sith were on his side, this time.

"Lysias!" Sarna called out, walking towards him. She was outfitted in smooth, metallic Sith battle armor. Of interesting note was that Sarna appeared to be the leader of her squadron, the others marching just a step behind, looking to her for direction.

Sarna reached Lysias and gave him quick hug, kissing him on the mouth as she did so. "Well hello there," Lysias told her, smiling.

"You were early," she commented, smiling as well.

"Well you said not to be late."

"True. Anyway, Lysias, Carth, this is my squadron. Guys, this is Lysias and Carth. They'll be coming with us down to the Lower City." The squadron members all gave friendly waves. They were all humans of fairly average appearance; certainly not personifications of evil, as many in the Republic viewed the Sith forces. In any case, Lysias certainly found it amusing that they were all staring at him intently, obviously curious to observe their squadron leader's lover. She had no doubt also told them that he had just defeated the Taris dueling champion, which would have only furthered their interest. "Well shall we go?" Sarna gestured at the elevator, a large boxlike structure positioned off the street.

"Ladies first," he told her, sweeping his arm toward the entrance. It was barred by what he surmised to be a very thick steel door. Sarna winked at him and strode over to the entryway. She slid an electronic keycard through a device mounted beside it, and a moment later the door slid open. Inside stood two more Sith soldiers, also armed with rifles.

"Good morning Sarna," one of them said in a gruff voice. "Going on patrol down below?"

"Correct," Sarna spoke crisply, her military manner cool and authoritative. "And I secured clearance for two friends of mine to come with so that we can watch the Swoop Race tomorrow."

"You'll have to tell me how that goes, I'm stuck on duty tomorrow. Alright, let's get going then."

Once everyone had moved to stand inside the elevator, the guards shut the door and began their descent. The drone of the machine filled Lysias' ears for several minutes until they finally came to a stop. "Alright, here we are," the other guard told them. "Be careful out there Sarna, there's a swoop gang war going on. I suggest you take your friends to Javyar's Cantina before you go on patrol."

Sarna nodded at the guard as the elevator doors opened. Exiting the elevator, Lysias found himself in a vast tunnel of steel and wires. The Lower City, it seemed, was located somewhere deep within the colossal skyscrapers of Taris. There were no windows lining the hallway; instead it was lit by artificial light shining from overhead. Further along the corridor, one of the lights had shorted out, leaving that section to dwell in darkness. Lysias also noted that, in sharp contrast to the Upper City, this level of Taris was far grimier. Black sludge dotted the walls, and where it failed to appear, colorful graffiti stood in its place. "Come on guys, the cantina is this way." Sarna motioned for the group to follow her. Taking a right out of the elevator, whose doors shut behind them, the group began walking down the passageway.

As they moved along, Lysias saw that the tunnel branched off on several sides, leading to further hallways and other areas of the Lower City. One thing that Lysias found peculiar was how empty the passages were. There were doors that presumably led to apartment complexes and supply stores, but unlike the Upper City, where large masses of Tarisians were constantly traversing the streets, here he saw very few individuals. Granted, Lysias thought, eyeing what were unmistakably blaster scorch marks on the walls, not many people would probably want to be on the streets during a swoop gang war.

Twenty minutes later, they approached a large door with a bouncer stationed outside of it. A neon sign overhead read, "Javyar's Cantina."

"Well, here it is," Sarna told Lysias and Carth. "Javyar's Cantina is one of the safer places in the Lower City. I can put you up tonight in one of the rooms at the apartment complex that the Sith have requisitioned down here, but I'll need to be there to check you in, and I don't get off patrol for nine hours. Just hang out here and I'll come pick you up when my shift ends."

"Alright, thanks Sarna," Carth said.

Lysias drew her close to him, and kissed her warmly for a few moments. He could feel her melt in his arms. When he at last pulled away, he whispered to her softly, "Good luck on patrol."

"Thanks," she replied warmly, her eyes full of the desire that he had seen in them the previous night. Then, noticing the stares of her squad members, she authoritatively announced, "Alright soldiers, let's move out." And they left down the passageway, rounding a corner and marching out of sight.

"She seems to be rather infatuated with you," Carth commented as the squadron disappeared from view.

"That's the plan," Lysias said cheerfully.

Carth shook his head. "Do you feel anything for her at all, or are you really just using her?"

"Well obviously I'm using her." Lysias began to walk towards the cantina's entrance; Carth strode beside him. "But she is also a lot of fun to be around, so I suppose you could say that I like her a little. Regrettably though, she is a Sith, so I don't think things would work out between us in the long run." He nodded at the bouncer and opened the door to enter the cantina.

Carth chuckled, following him in. "Fair enough."

"What about you?" Lysias asked offhandedly, glancing back at him. "Is there a woman waiting for you back home?"

At this Carth faltered, as if he had suddenly misstepped. But before Lysias could remark on this, several blaster shots sounded from further within the cantina. Whipping his head back around and instinctively gripping his holstered weapon, Lysias forced himself to remain still as several bouncers ran past him towards the source of the commotion. After half a minute, when it was clear that there was to be no further gunfire, Lysias began slowly walking to the cantina's central room, where the bar was located, and where he was sure the noise had come from.

Ducking under a low-lying archway to enter the chamber, Lysias saw the cantina bouncers dragging away three bodies—a Rodian and two Twi'leks (humanoid aliens with two tail-like tendrils that protruded from the backs of their heads)—that very clearly had blaster holes burnt through their chests. Walking away from the scene was a short man whose full face was obscured by a grainy desert hat and what Lysias presumed were night-vision goggles. He wore thick armor underneath a long brown and blue hunting coat, and in each hand he Mandalorian heavy blaster. Lysias could see that they had been custom modified. It was clear that this man had shot the other three. It was also clear that he was someone of deadly skill; even the club bouncers were avoiding his gaze. The man strode right past Lysias and Carth hardly taking notice of either of them.

As the sound of the strange man's footsteps faded, and as the bouncers took the three bodies out of view, something about the cantina struck Lysias as being somewhat peculiar. Despite what had just occurred, none of the cantina patrons appeared the least bit rattled. Sure, it was early in the morning and there were only a few aliens occupying the seats around the bar, but not one of them was showing any reaction to what had transpired not twenty feet from them. Which left one plausible explanation, Lysias thought, as he and Carth approached the wooden counter.

"Does that sort of thing happen a lot around here?" Lysias called to the bartender, who had his back turned and was busy cleaning glasses. The bartender was also Twi'lek, tall and green.

"You must not live in the Lower City," he replied without turning around, his voice deep and gruff. He spoke, as had Lysias, in Galactic Basic. "With the swoop gang war that's going on, we have incidents like that all over; you can hardly walk down the street on any given day without seeing at least one fight break out."

"Were the men here in swoop gangs?" Carth asked.

"The three who were shot were. They were part of the Black Vulkars; the Vulkars and the Hidden Beks are the two biggest swoop gangs in the Lower City. If you ask me, the Vulkars don't deserve control of the Lower City, especially if their members are stupid enough to pick a fight with Calo Nord."

"That was Calo Nord?" Carth looked stunned.

Lysias leaned over to whisper to him. "Who's Calo Nord?"

Carth looked even more shocked at Lysias' question. "He's only one of the most infamous bounty hunters in the galaxy. How have you never heard of him?"

Lysias shrugged, but offered no further response. Carth's face contorted in bewildered exasperation. "Yea, rumor is that Nord's been contracted by Davik Kang," the bartender continued.

"Who?" Lysias was beginning to feel very much out of the loop.

"You _really_ must not be from around here," said the bartender irritably, turning around at last to look at them. "Davik Kang is—" But then his voice faltered, and Lysias saw the glint of recognition in the man's eyes as they made eye contact. The bartender's mouth gaped in shock before he managed to stammer, "Y-You're the M-Mysterious Stranger!"

It was as if the bartender's words had magically brought the cantina to life. From all sides, Lysias suddenly found himself swarmed by people, each one excitedly pressing as close to him as possible. He heard dozens of voices shouting at him at once, but he was able to register only a few at a time: "I saw you on the viewscreens down here; you were amazing!", "I never thought anyone would beat Twitch, and you made it look so easy!", and "Can I please have your autoprint?"

At some point during it all, Carth had managed to slip away, and Lysias wondered if he had perhaps gone off to find out more about the crashed escape pods. Carth better have had, he thought sullenly, because there was little chance that he was going to get any opportunity to discreetly ask questions now that the entire cantina had been alerted to his identity. Conspicuousness was the price of fame, Lysias supposed. It was really almost comical how enthusiastic the crowd was, though. They were so intent upon greeting Lysias, and hearing him recount his fight with Twitch (to which he reluctantly resigned himself to doing), that they seemed to be completely oblivious to anything else happening around them. Why, Lysias saw two Rodians attempt to accost a young blue Twi'lek girl in the corner of the room, and no one so much as looked her way. Fortunately the Twi'lek girl had a Wookie—seven-foot tall, hairy humanoids native to the planet of Kashyyyk—as a friend that quickly came to her rescue.

After perhaps half an hour of shaking hands, giving out autoprints, and demonstrating the exact finishing move that he had used to defeat Twitch, Lysias suddenly became aware of a very different kind of presence standing just to his right. A low voice whispered in his ear, "Gadon Thek, leader of the Hidden Beks, would like to speak with you. He knows what happened to your crashed Republic escape pods." Slowly turning his head to see who had spoken, Lysias saw a man dressed in all black standing next to him, his expression serious, and full of none of the hero worship that the rest of the crowd was displaying.

Behind the man stood Carth; locking eyes with him, Lysias realized that Carth must have asked this man about the escape pods. The man was obviously a member of the Hidden Beks, one of the swoop gangs that the bartender had mentioned. If the Beks' leader wanted to speak with Lysias, it was probably in someway related to Lysias' victory at the dueling ring the previous night, and his resulting martial reputation. The offer of information concerning the escape pods was clearly a ploy to draw Lysias' interest; whether or not this Gadon Thek really had any knowledge concerning them was yet to be seen. Still, it was a potential lead, and Lysias knew that he and Carth couldn't afford to pass it up. Besides, he thought with a small smirk, surely someone capable enough to lead such a large swoop gang would know better than to make false promises to the "Mysterious Stranger."

Lysias nodded to the Hidden Bek, indicating that he would meet with Gadon Thek. The man nodded back, and began detaching himself from the crowd, motioning for Lysias and Carth to follow. Lysias turned back to the throng of bar patrons surrounding him, and announced loudly, "Okay everyone, that's enough for today, I need to leave. Drinks for everyone though, on me!" The crowd cheered in delight as Lysias handed the bartender a few hundred credits. As the bartender hurried to fill everyone's drink orders, Lysias slipped from the group, chants of "Stranger! Stranger!" accompanying him as the Hidden Bek led him and Carth out of the cantina.

"So where is Gadon Thek?" Lysias asked the Hidden Bek as soon as they walked out the doors.

"Keep your voice down" the Bek warned him, warily gazing around the deserted passageway. "We don't want to attract the attention of any Black Vulkars."

"Sorry," Lysias told him, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Gadon Thek is back at our base. It's not too far from here." They walked to the Hidden Bek base without incident. Half an hour after leaving Javyar's Cantina, the trio approached a pair of very thick steel doors, on either side of which were mounted laser canons. Half a dozen armed men stood in front of the door, clearly more Hidden Beks who were on guard duty. The Bek traveling with Lysias and Carth called out to them. "I've brought the Mysterious Stranger and his friend." The guards nodded and opened the doors. The trio walked through, and Lysias marveled at how heavily fortified the Beks' hideout was. He wondered if the Vulkars' base possessed similar security.

Inside, Lysias surveyed a very large room filled with scores of gang members, each one armed with blaster rifles and vibroblades. He and Carth were led through the large area and into a backroom, where a bald, dark-skinned man with peculiar eyes and a pale, severe-looking female Twi'lek stood behind a steel counter. As soon as they entered, the Twi'lek demanded, "Which one is the Mysterious Stranger?" Her icy tone matched her appearance.

The Bek that had led them in pointed to Lysias. "This one, Zaerdra."

Zaerdra gestured for the man to leave, which he then did. "So you're the famous 'Mysterious Stranger' that everyone's been talking about," she said, moving around the counter and approaching him. As she did so, Lysias saw her subtly draw a knife from her belt and palm it in her right hand. Did she mean to kill him? He had assumed that the Beks might be attempting to recruit him in their gang war, but perhaps they simply wished to eliminate him instead, so that there would be no chance that he could join their rivals, the Black Vulkars. But if that was the case, then why hadn't they simply shot him and Carth when they had first entered the base?

The bald man behind the counter appeared to have noticed Lysias' apprehension. "You have nothing to fear, Stranger," he reassured in a voice that was full of both authority and warmth. "We mean you no harm. Zaerdra is just a little overenthusiastic when it comes to ensuring my safety."

"You're the leader of the Hidden Beks, Gadon," Zaerdra replied, still keeping her eyes on Lysias. "He could be a spy for the Vulkars, or worse, an assassin sent by Brejik."

"Um, you guys contacted _me_," Lysias pointed out, silently fighting the urge to take a few steps back. With that knife in her hand, Zaerdra was a little too close for comfort; she had stopped within two feet of him.

"He's right Zaerdra," continued Gadon Thek, "we invited him and his friend here as our guests. It isn't right for us to be treating them so hostilely. Besides, no assassin would be foolish enough to attack me in the heart of our base. They'd never get out alive, it would be a suicide mission! And I doubt that any of the Vulkars are dedicated enough to willingly sacrifice themselves in such a manner."

"I guess you're right," admitted Zaerdra, sliding her weapon back into her belt. As Lysias was about to breathe a sigh of relief, however, the Twi'lek's eyes narrowed. "But if you try _anything_," she warned him, "I'll gut you faster than you can say 'Vulkar spy'."

"Duly noted," Lysias told her, feeling himself relax considerably as she stepped away, returning to stand beside Gadon. Chuckling, Gadon shook his head. It was then that Lysias noticed something about the gang leader. His peculiar eyes, which were a shade of bright blue, were not in fact organic. "You have ocular implants," he commented.

Gadon smiled. "You're right," he said. "I lost my sight in a swoop bike accident some time ago. But thanks to these—" he indicated his mechanical eyes "—I'm able to see as clearly as I ever did. Of course, that's caused a lot of problems around here."

"What do you mean?" Carth asked, now stepping forward to stand beside Lysias.

Gadon sighed, dropping his gaze as he did so. "The current leader of the Black Vulkars is a man named Brejik. Before he joined them, the Vulkars were just another group of thugs and petty criminals. But Brejik has managed to mobilize them into a formidable gang, and as you know, is leading a war against us for control of the Lower City."

"But what does that have to do with you eyes?" Lysias inquired.

"Brejik was once a member of the Hidden Beks. Well in truth, he used to be my second-in-command, and was as good as a son to me. When I first lost my sight, everyone assumed that I would step down and allow Brejik to assume leadership of the Beks. But I knew that Brejik wasn't ready to lead the gang just yet, and besides, with my implants I still felt well enough to continue leading the Beks."

"I bet Brejik didn't like that," commented Carth.

Gadon shook his head. "No," he said wearily, his brow furrowing in anxiety. "Brejik was outraged when I told him, and soon afterwards he left the gang. He joined up with the Vulkars, and managed to take over as their leader. Now he's using them to further his vendetta against me. I wonder, sometimes, if things might have been better if I _had_ stepped down, and let Brejik take control of the gang."

At this Zaerdra cut in, exchanging her severe expression for one of concern and sympathy. "Brejik is power hungry, Gadon," she assured him. "Even if you had retired and given him control of the Beks, he would just have used them to destroy the Vulkars."

"Maybe," Gadon mused, still casting his gaze downward. Then he looked up, focusing on Lysias. "Mysterious Stranger, I bet you're wondering why I called you and your friend here."

"We came because your man said you had information about the Republic escape pods," Lysias told him. "In truth, we're looking for one of the survivors, a woman named Bastila."

"Ah yes, I've heard of her. My sources tell me that the Sith are hell-bent on finding her as well, which is why they have all of these damned patrols searching through the lower levels of Taris."

"Do you know what happened to her?" Carth asked. "We know the Sith haven't found her yet, so she has to be hiding somewhere."

"Hmm….." Gadon began stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well to answer your question, yes, I do know what happened to her. And I can even tell you where to find her. But to rescue her, we'll need to work together."

"Go on," Lysias implored, waiting with bated breath. Had they really found Bastila?

"Well…." Gadon began, "Bastila has been captured by the Black Vulkars. The Republic escape pods all crashed in the Undercity. We tried to get to the pods to salvage the wreckage, but the Vulkars beat us to it. They stripped the pods of their valuable parts, as well as captured any survivors that they could find. My sources tell me that there was only one survivor, a female Republic officer—your Bastila, I assume. Now the Vulkars deal in a lot of criminal activities that the Hidden Beks don't, intergalactic slavery included. A Republic officer is huge catch for them."

"The Vulkars intend to sell Bastila into slavery?" Carth asked, outraged.

"Well, not directly. You may have heard about the swoop race season opener that's being held in the Lower City tomorrow?"

"We have plans to go to, actually," responded Lysias, thinking of Sarna.

"There are spectator seats set up along the swoop track, sure," continued Gadon. "But inside the staging area, the building where the swoop racers gather while waiting for their turn to go out onto the track, the host of the race puts up a prize that goes to the racer with the fastest time. This year the Black Vulkars are hosting the race, and Brejik has put Bastila up as the prize to be won. The other swoop gangs participating will almost certainly plan to sell her on the intergalactic slave market."

"And what would the Hidden Beks do with her, were they to win?" Lysias asked.

"To be honest, she didn't matter to us much before today. All that matters to us is that we win the race. Racing skill means a lot down here. If the Black Vulkars win tomorrow's competition, then a lot of the smaller gangs will ally with Brejik, and he'll finally have enough manpower to wipe out the Beks. We of course couldn't let that happen. For the past few months we've been developing a new, more powerful swoop accelerator, one that would give us an edge in the season opener. But last week the Vulkars stole our prototype, and with it, their victory is guaranteed."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Gadon Thek smiled. "I said that we would need to work together if you wanted to rescue Bastila. At the moment Brejik has her hidden away—I couldn't tell you where, exactly, I doubt that anyone knows except for Brejik himself. Which means that your only opportunity to save her will be tomorrow, at the swoop race. But to be allowed into the staging area, where Brejik will be bringing her, you have to be a sponsored swoop racer. That's where I can help you…"

"Ah," said Lysias, catching on. "So you asked me to come here because you want me to get your stolen swoop accelerator back from the Vulkars."

"Yes, and in return, the Hidden Beks will sponsor you in tomorrow's swoop race. With the accelerator, you'll win, and then you can take Bastila as your prize. Everybody wins."

"I'll do it," Lysias told him. "But do you know where they've taken the accelerator?"

"It's locked away inside the Vulkar base, which I can tell you is just as fortified as this place."

"Knew it," muttered Lysias.

"Fortunately, one of our associates claims that there's a secret entrance into the base that you can access from the Undercity. I assume that's how the Vulkars managed to get to the crashed escape pods before us. Be warned though, the Undercity is a very dangerous place. It's crawling with Rakghouls; to be honest, part of the reason that we're sending you to do this is that we aren't willing to risk any of our own men."

"That's fine, do you at least know where this secret entrance is?"

Gadon shook his head. "Like I said, we've only heard about it from one of our associates, a young Twi'lek named Mission Vao. She and her Wookie companion Zaalbar are always off exploring the Undercity. Damned foolish, if you ask me."

"Wait, a Twi'lek girl and a Wookie?" Lysias turned to Carth. "I saw them back in the cantina."

"Mission and Zaalbar usually split their time between Javyar's, this base, and the Undercity," Gadon confided to them. "I'd bet that they're in the Undercity right now. I suggest you get down there and look for them."

"How do we reach the Undercity?"

"There's a transport elevator that will near here that will take you down. I'll have a few of my men show you to it." Lysias nodded and turned to leave when Gadon called out to him. "Oh there's one more thing."

"Hm?" Queried Lysias, turning back around to face him.

"Seeing as we're working together, I'd like to know your names. I'm pretty sure that you don't generally go by 'Mysterious Stranger'."

Lysias chuckled. "My name's Lysias," he said. "And this is Carth."

Gadon smiled once more. "It's been a pleasure meeting you both. Good luck, and stay on your guard in the Undercity."

Lysias and Carth thanked him and exited the room to find three Hidden Bek members waiting for them. "This way, please," one of them urged. They left the base and soon traversed the Lower City's passageways to reach a large elevator much like the one that Lysias and Carth had ridden down from the Upper City. As the gang members departed, Lysias and Carth activated the elevator doors and strode inside. After pressing the appropriate button, the doors shut and the elevator began to descend. They were on their way to the Undercity.


	5. Chapter 5: A Life Debt

Disclaimer: All rights to the Star Wars franchise and characters belong to Lucasfilm.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5: A Life Debt<span>

High above the ecumenopolis of Taris orbited a fleet of Sith warships, sheer and imposing, conveying a silent menace that had become all too common in the galaxy. They were of a peculiar design, dissimilar from Republic warships, though by no means inferior; countless turrets and mounted laser cannons shone in starlight. Aboard the fleet's flagship, the _Leviathan_, a solitary man observed Taris from the command bridge. He was a physically powerful man, over six feet tall and heavily muscled. Adorned in armor of red and black, the metal hilt of a lightsaber gleaming coldly from his belt. Set atop very broad shoulders, the man's bald cranium bore four striped tattoos, and in place of his jaw was instead fixed a steel prosthesis. With his arms crossed over his chest, his yellow irises narrowed as the bridge's door opened behind him.

In strode a graying man in his late forties, wearing the uniform of the commander of the Sith fleet. "Lord Malak," he spoke in a crisp, gritty tone, suited to his rank, "you summoned me?"

Darth Malak, Dark Lord of the Sith, turned around, focusing his gaze upon the man. "Yes, Admiral Karath." His voice was deep and metallic, not unlike his jaw. It also possessed an electronic edge. "How goes the search for Bastila Shan?"

Admiral Saul Karath hesitated, knowing that his answer would displease the Sith Lord. "…Our troops have not yet located her," he replied.

"That is disappointing, Admiral," Malak murmured. He turned back around to look at the planet through the bridge's massive viewing window. After a moment's pause, he issued new orders. "If Bastila Shan is not found in the next forty-eight hours, Admiral, then our fleet is to raze Taris to the ground."

"My Lord? You wish for an orbital bombardment? But we still have troops on the surface!"

Malak turned once again to look at Saul. "Admiral," he spoke, and there was a menace to it that matched the Sith fleet, "your predecessor once made the mistake of questioning my orders. I suggest that you avoid following his example."

"Yes, my Lord, I understand," Saul said at once, bowing to his master. "I shall see to it that our ships are in position to strike should it become necessary."

"Good. You are dismissed, Admiral." Saul saluted the Dark Lord and left the bridge. With his departure, Malak strode closer to the window, peering at the planet that he had so recently conquered. "Well Bastila," he muttered softly, "it appears that your time is running out."

* * *

><p>The transport elevator opened to a dark gloom, and Lysias and Carth exited it to find themselves in a landscape of skyscraper bases and dry soil. "So this is the Undercity," Lysias wondered aloud, squinting as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.<p>

"Light can't get penetrate this far down, so it's probably impossible for plants to grow," Carth commented, kicking at the earth. He glanced around him. "I don't know how we're supposed to find that Mission girl and her Wookie friend down here."

"Maybe they'll know?" Lysias put in helpfully, gesturing at two approaching individuals. They were human males, garbed in torn, ratty clothing, and had their eyes fixed upon Lysias and Carth. "May we help you?" Lysias asked with raised eyebrows as they drew nearer.

"There's a toll on this elevator!" one of them said at once. "This is our elevator, and you up-worlders have to give us five credits each for using it!"

"There's no toll on this elevator, what do you take us for?" Carth shot back, sounding indignant.

"Pay up!" demanded the second man. "Or else!"

Lysias' eyes narrowed. "Or else what?" he queried, laying a hand on his holstered blaster. The two men's bravado vanished almost immediately, and their aggressive, confrontational expressions shifted to ones of fright and insecurity. Then Lysias noticed how thin the men were, the rags that they were wearing doing nothing to conceal their bony torsos. Looking past their fear and anger, he sensed a terrible desperation that filled him with pity. "Here," he told them, collecting credits out of his pocket. He threw them at the two men. "There's ten credits from each of us, now leave us alone. And stop mugging people when they get off the elevator, not everyone is as saintly as I am." The men picked up the credits and ran off without a word. Lysias felt a tinge or irritation. "Bastards didn't even thank me," he muttered, and to his surprise, Carth began to chuckle. "What is it?" he asked.

Carth subsided and looked at him, still smiling. "Well it's just that I never really took you to be the charitable type, Lysias."

Lysias was taken aback by this, not sure what to say. While he would readily admit to being egotistical, calculating and manipulative, he didn't see why that would necessarily render him uncharitable. He viewed himself as being superior to most others, and so naturally those beneath him were to be pitied, and occasionally aided through goodwill. Then again, that train of thought was probably explanation enough for Carth's statement. Oh well. Lysias shrugged, unrepentant, replying, "I am charitable when I choose to be." He began to walk in the direction that the two men had run. "Now come on, those two may well lead us to others who can tell us where the Twi'lek and Wookie are."

They hadn't been moving for more than five minutes when a voice called out to them from further within the gloom. "Hello!" The voice was feminine. "Is anyone out there?"

"We're here!" Carth shouted back.

A woman with dark, close-cropped hair and pale skin appeared out of the darkness, dressed in rags much as the other two men had been. Upon seeing them, the woman smiled. "So they weren't lying, more up-worlders have come down," she said cheerfully. By "them", Lysias assumed she was referring to the two men they had met at the elevator. The woman drew nearer, and Lysias couldn't help but notice that she was rather pretty. "My name's Shaleena, pleased to meet you," she told them, sticking out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you too," Lysias greeted back, surprised at her friendly forwardness. He and Carth shook her hand. "I'm Lysias, and this is Carth. We're looking for a Twi'lek named Mission Vao and a Wookie named Zaalbar, have you seen them?"

"Oh sure," Shaleena answered happily. "They come by our village all the time. They were here just a little while ago, actually. I think they were getting ready to go explore the sewers."

"Really? That's great! Can you point us in the direction of the sewers then?"

Shaleena shook her head. "You don't want to go there," she told them. "The area that you have to cross getting to them is infested with rakghouls, and rumor has it that Gamorrean slavers make the sewers their base."

"Look," said Carth earnestly, "we really need to locate Mission and Zaalbar. Please tell us where the sewers are."

Shaleena chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment. At last, "Alright, if you want to go, then you can deal with the consequences. The sewers are on the other side of my village. Come on, I'll take you that far." They followed her back the way she had come, the whole time answering her questions about the upper levels of Taris. "I was born here, you know," she told them. "A hundred years ago, after Taris' civil war ended, the poor folk who had rebelled were banished down here, they and their descendants were sentenced to never leave the bottom of the planet. If any of us try to use that elevator that you rode down here, we'd be killed by the Taris authorities. That's why I always love to meet up-worlders who come down here; I've always wondered what the upper levels are like. We've gotten a lot of up-worlders down here lately, actually."

"Who else has come down here?" Carth asked her.

"A lot of those Sith soldiers, mostly. They came to our village and demanded that we show them where some escape pods crashed a little while ago. Too bad for them, though, one of the swoop gangs got to the pods first, and stripped them clean."

"Shaleena," Lysias interjected, his curiosity having gotten the best of him, "what are rakghouls?"

Shaleena looked at him, surprised. "You've never heard of rakghouls? They're monsters that plague the Undercity. If they bite or scratch you then you'll be infected, and soon after, you'll turn into a rakghoul yourself."

"So it's some sort of virus?"

Shaleena nodded. "No one knows how it started, but it's out of control, and the Taris authorities won't do anything about it. They figure that since the plague is confined to the Undercity, it's not worth their time to try to cure it."

"I'm sorry Shaleena, that's awful."

"It's okay. Outcasts like me, and the people in my village, have learned to make do with our situation. Well, here we are." They had come to a large enclosure, a twenty-foot wall rising up out of the darkness. Shaleena strode over to what was apparently a door, and rapped her knuckles on it twice. "Hey, open up, would ya?"

From the other side, the sounds of several locks being undone could be heard, and the door swung inwards. A man who was clearly the gatekeeper stepped into view. "Shaleena," he said in a rough voice, "you're missing all the excitement, get in here quick!"

"What's going on?" she asked worriedly.

"That Mission girl's come back, she's raising a real ruckus in the village." At this Lysias and Carth hurried over, eager to follow Shaleena inside. The gatekeeper let them through, shutting the door behind them.

Once inside, Lysias surveyed the village. Appearing much like a refugee camp, various small buildings constructed of scrap metal filled the enclosure. A few fire pits dotted the ground, cooking ware set next to them on the ground. Several dozen men and women were milling about, conversing or carrying supplies, while a small group was gathered in the center of the town, observing some unseen spectacle. "Come on!" Shaleena told them, leading them towards the commotion.

As they drew closer, Lysias could hear the pleas of what sounded like a teenage girl. "Please!" the voice cried. "Please help me! They've taken Big Z!" Reaching the crowd and shoving his way through, Lysias found the voice's source: it was the Twi'lek girl that he had seen in Javyar's Cantina earlier that day; it was Mission Vao. Dressed in leather pants and gloves, with a tactical vest worn over a black sleeveless shirt, she looked like the kind of person who felt at ease living in the rough Lower City of Taris. At present, however, her countenance was frantic and desperate. As Lysias reached the front of the group, Mission's eyes alighted upon him. "It's you!" she announced suddenly, turning to him. "You're the Mysterious Stranger! I saw you in the cantina earlier!"

"Yea, that's me," Lysias affirmed, shocked but amused at how famous he had become, literally overnight.

"Please Stranger, you have to help me! None of the villagers here will, but you've got to!"

"Now just calm down Mission," Carth told her, moving to stand beside Lysias. "What's the problem?"

Mission took a deep, calming breath, and then said spoke much less frantically, "Big Z—that's my friend Zaalbar's nickname, maybe you saw him in the cantina, he's kind of hard to miss, being a Wookie and all…anyway, Big Z and I were exploring the sewers, like always, only this time we were ambushed by a bunch of Gamorrean thugs! They captured Big Z! I was so scared, didn't know what to do! Big Z told me to run for it, so I dodged the Gamorreans and ran back here as fast as I could! Please Stranger, please help me save Big Z! The Gamorreans are slavers, they're going to sell him if we don't hurry!"

Some of the Outcasts of the village began berating Mission, claiming that she and Zaalbar had been reckless to go into the sewers, and were now paying the price for their incaution. Lysias, however, knew exactly how he was going to respond to the situation. Mission and her Wookie friend needed his help, and he needed theirs. It was a pleasant symmetry. "We'll help you rescue Zaalbar, Mission," Lysias told her, indicating Carth and himself. "But afterwards we need you to help us infiltrate the Black Vulkar base."

"It's a deal!" Mission accepted at once. A girlish grin mixed with the anxiety splayed across her face. "Let's go, the sewers are this way!" Lysias and Carth thanked Shaleena for her help, and quickly followed the Twi'lek to the opposite end of the village, out the gate, and into the wasteland beyond. As they moved farther away from the settlement, Mission glanced at them, and asked, "So all you have is blasters?"

"Yea, why?" Carth replied quizzically.

"Well the part of the reason that Big Z and I weren't able to take the Gamorreans on was that they have energy shields; blasters are no good against them. They must've attacked some of the Sith troopers that have been patrolling down here and taken theirs."

"So what you're saying is that ranged combat is ineffective against them," stated Lysias. "We'll need melee weapons."

"I spotted some Sith corpses on my to the village, maybe they'll have some vibroswords."

Sure enough, a few minutes later the trio came upon the armored bodies of a Sith patrol group. Their skin had been ripped and punctured by the claws and fangs of some unknown beasts, most likely the rakghouls that Shaleena had told Lysias and Carth about. "What a horrible way to die," Carth muttered in horror, his mouth agape in shock as he bent down to more closely study one of the Sith troops; his throat had been ripped open, and the ground around him was stained dark with blood.

"Rakghoul attacks aren't pretty," Mission commented. "They must've ambushed these poor suckers. Rakghouls aren't that hard to deal with if you see them coming, you just shoot them with your blaster."

Lysias walked amongst the corpses, searching for the melee weapons for which they had taken this detour. Spotting a vibrosword, still sheathed—the Sith patrolman had obviously been killed before he could draw it—Lysias dropped to one knee and unclasped it from the Sith's belt. Standing up and attaching the sheath to his own belt, he saw that Carth and Mission had similarly found weapons of their own. "Right," Lysias told them, "Lead the way to the Gamorreans, Mission."

Over the course of the next half hour, they steadily trekked their way across the desolate landscape of the Undercity to the sewers. Along the way, they encountered perhaps a dozen rakghouls, and Lysias was at last able to observe what they were: large, scaly, bipedal monsters with razor-sharp claws and serrated teeth. Their two eyes were positioned on their foreheads, one above the other, and it sent a shiver down Lysias' spine to be look directly into them. Despite having originally been a sentient organism, there was no higher thought process evident in those eyes, only the predatory savagery of a beast reduced to the most basic of instincts. The rakghouls' hides were thick, and it took several blaster shots to fell each one. Lysias decided not to envisage what sort of danger they might face if a large pack descended upon them all at once.

Reaching an entrance to the sewers—a large grated door that swung open on several hinges—the trio entered a damp, dark tunnel, plugging their noses at the horrific stench. "And you're telling me that you and Zaalbar came here _willingly_?" Lysias asked Mission incredulously.

"You get used to the stench eventually," she insisted. Rolling his eyes, Lysias pressed onwards, allowing the Twi'lek to lead them to where they had encountered the Gamorreans, trying his hardest to avoid shallow pools of what he hoped was just water that had formed on the tunnel's floor.

"Mission, this is no place for a kid to be exploring," Carth put in, gazing around them warily. The tunnel branched off at many points, forming a labyrinth of steel that seemed to stretch out endlessly in all directions.

"I ain't a KID!" Mission yelled suddenly, whirling around to glare furiously at Carth. Her shout ricocheted off the walls, and echoed down to tunnel into the darkness.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Lysias hissed at her, but it was too late. Loud squeals sounded from closer by than Lysias would have preferred; the Gamorreans must be close by. Drawing his vibrosword, Lysias gestured for Carth and Mission to do the same. Hurried, splashing footsteps were now drawing nearer, and from up ahead Lysias could see bulky figures emerging from the darkness. Moments later he was better able to make out six humanoid boars, with tough, green skin, dressed in thick leathers and carrying large spiked clubs. Lysias remained calm as the Gamorreans drew nearer, carefully observing their movements and debating how best to dispose of them once hostilities commenced.

The Gamorreans stopped six feet in front of them, and the apparent leader of the group, an especially ugly pig, opened his maw and spoke to them in Basic. "You our prisoners now," the alien grunted, the long teeth of his bottom jaw protruding over his upper lip and rendering him nearly incomprehensible. "Drop your weapons, or we kill you."

"I understand that you recently captured a Wookie named Zaalbar? We would like for you to release him now," was all that Lysias said in response, completely ignoring the Gamorrean's words. The Gamorrean may have been expecting them to either comply or flee, but clearly it hadn't occurred to him that these strangers would give him an order.

He stumbled, momentarily taken aback. "You no hear good?" he asked, dumbfounded. "You our prisoners, we give orders, not you!"

"Give us the Wookie, or you all die," Lysias demanded in an even tone.

The Gamorrean leader still showed surprise at Lysias' authoritative manner, but his patience had run out. He let out a mighty squeal before lifting his war club over his head and rushing the man who had dared to defy him. But Lysias had acted as soon as it became clear that the humanoid boar was going to attack. Leaping forward, he sliced open the Gamorrean's stomach before it could react, and followed up his assault by deftly opening up its throat with a flick of his vibrosword. The creature collapsed to the floor of the tunnel, twitching feebly as life drained from its body.

The other Gamorreans looked on in shock as their leader was so easily dispatched by this arrogant human, but soon their shock shifted into a raging bloodlust. All five activated small machines at their belts—the energy shields that Mission had mentioned—and translucent spheres expanded around them. Then, squealing much like their fallen leader before them, they charged. Carth and Mission ran to join with Lysias, and together they engaged the Gamorreans. Their spiked clubs were unquestionably lethal, but they were also large and unwieldy. Lysias found it easy enough to avoid them, though Carth and Mission had to parry to some amount. Nonetheless, within a few minutes they had eliminated all but one of Gamorreans. The pig attempted to flee, but Lysias cleaved through the back of his calf, sending him crashing to the floor, and unable to effectively escape. Walking around to stand by the Gamorrean's snout, Lysias kicked the shield generator from its belt and directed his vibrosword towards its neck. "I'll ask once more," he said, and this time he knew that his words would be paid heed, "where is the Wookie?"

The Gamorrean managed to drag itself to its feet, and, using the tunnel wall for balance and support, slowly led the trio to Zaalbar. They passed by a number of water treatment rooms, where automated systems filtered and managed wastewater. After taking several turns in the tunnel labyrinth, the group entered through a large opening to emerge inside a cavernous room, where the Gamorreans seemed to have made their base. Two more of the humanoid pigs stood guard by a large steel cage, inside of which Zaalbar, garbed in a red vest, was pacing. Before the Gamorrean guards could even register their appearance, Carth drew his twin blasters and shot each from across the room. The guards slumped to the floor, holes burned through their chests. The Gamorrean who had led them this far squealed as his last two companions were felled, and pushed off the wall he was leaning on to leap at Carth. The veteran soldier deposited one more blaster shot, directly in-between the creature's eyes, and it too fell to the floor.

Mission sprinted to Zaalbar's cage, and the Wookie gave a joyous yell, full of vibrato, as she used her blaster to vaporize the cage's lock. The door swung open as Zaalbar stepped out of it, and he immediately picked Mission up in what must have been a very hairy hug. As Lysias and Carth joined them, Zaalbar turned to the pair and spoke to them in Shyriiwook, the chief trade language of the Wookies. "Thank you both for helping to free me," he said. "It was our pleasure," Lysias replied in Basic. Due to the unique style of enunciation required by Shyriiwook, it was virtually impossible for a being that was not a Wookie to speak it. "What did he say?" Carth asked, who clearly could not understand Shyriiwook. "He thanked us for rescuing him," Lysias informed.

"Which of you led my rescue?" Zaalbar further queried.

"Him, the Mysterious Stranger," answered Mission, pointing at Lysias.

Lysias chuckled. "'Mysterious Stranger' is my stage name. My real name is Lysias, and this is Carth," he explained to the Twi'lek and Wookie.

"Lysias," spoke Zaalbar, and suddenly he was solemn and reserved. "You have saved me from enslavement; my people are renowned throughout the galaxy for their physical strength, and had you not intervened, I surely would have been forced into a life of hard labor. In gratitude, I swear to you a life debt."

Mission's eyes widened at this, and she looked up at her friend. "A life debt? Are you sure Big Z?"

"Yes," the Wookie affirmed.

Lysias stared at Zaalbar in shock. A life debt was a social institution found in several cultures in the galaxy. The debtor pledged his protection to the debtee for the remainder of his life, even if the debtor lost his life in the process. It was a sacred honor-bound tradition held by many species, including the Wookies. And Zaalbar wished to pledge one to him? Lysias hadn't anticipated that rescuing Zaalbar would lead to this. Wookies made for powerful allies, to be sure, but accepting the life debt would mean that Zaalbar would remain with him for the rest of his life. Did he want that? He supposed that he didn't really have a choice; Zaalbar would take it as a grave insult if Lysias refused his life debt. And the Wookie could be extremely helpful to him. At last Lysias replied, "Zaalbar, I would be honored to accept your life debt."

"Well, that settles it," interjected Mission. "Wherever Big Z goes, I go, so I guess I'll be hanging with you from now on, Lysias."

"Works for me," Lysias told her. Although he had only just met her, he liked Mission. She was full of spunk, and seemed very mature for her age. "So could you show us how to infiltrate the Black Vulkar base now?"

Mission shrugged, nodding. "Sure thing," she said, "why are you trying to get in, by the way?" Lysias related to her the mission given to him and Carth by Gadon Thek, and their quest in locating Bastila. Normally he would never trust such sensitive information to two beings that he had just met, but Zaalbar's life debt was assurance enough that he could place his faith in them. "So you're both soldiers fighting for the Republic? That's so cool! This Bastila chick's pretty lucky to have you two looking for her."

"She can count herself lucky once we've rescued her," Carth commented. Lysias could tell that he felt left out of the conversation, in no small part because he was unable to understand Zaalbar's language. "Can we please get going? The more time we spend here, the less time we have to retrieve the prototype swoop accelerator."

"Don't worry Carth," Mission reassured him, "the secret entrance to the Vulkars' base is right by here. Its convenient for them since they do a lot of business with the Gamorreans."

"Not anymore though," Lysias muttered wryly.

Mission beckoned them to follow her out of the Gamorreans' hideout. "Come on," she urged. She led them back into the winding maze of sewer tunnels, and sure enough, a short while later they came to a large doorway blocked by a force field. "The Vulkars use this to keep people out of their base," Mission told them. "Luckily for us, though, I can bypass it." She strode over to a wall-mounted computer terminal, into which Lysias assumed one could enter a password to deactivate the fore field. Presumably Mission did not know the password, but this did not appear to deter her. Retrieving a datapad and some tools from her pockets, she opened the front panel of the computer, detached some wires and hooked them into her device. A few minutes later the computer beeped, and the force field dissipated. "Piece of cake," Mission stated proudly. Passing through the archway and into the base, they found themselves in an empty chamber. On the other side of the room, elevator doors could be seen.

"Do you have any idea where they will be keeping the accelerator?" Carth asked Mission.

"Probably in their garage, with the rest of their swoop equipment," the Twi'lek speculated. She consulted her datapad. "I was able to download the base's schematics when I sliced into their system. That elevator will actually take us up to one of the maintenance bays in their garage; from there it's just a matter of finding the accelerator."

They boarded the elevator and began their ascent back to the Lower City. As they did so, Zaalbar asked Lysias, "May I have a weapon, Lysias? The Gamorreans took my blaster when they captured me."

"Sure thing Zaalbar," Lysias answered, handing the Wookie his blaster and an energy shield. He had gathered up the Gamorreans' energy shields earlier, and now each member of their party had one equipped; they would provide sufficient protection against any laserfire that they might encounter from the Vulkars.

A few minutes later the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. They exited into a room full of mechanical parts and power tools. Beside a large worktable stood some sort of combat droid, although it was deactivated. "I still don't see how we're going to be able to search through the entire garage without the Vulkars noticing us," Carth fretted. "The swoop race is tomorrow, they're sure to be working on their bikes. We'll be walking into a death trap."

"From looking at the schematic, I'd bet that the accelerator we're looking for is in this room," said Mission, pointing on her datapad. "It's the most heavily fortified room in the garage. If those Vulkars are going to hide their key to winning tomorrow's race anywhere, it'll probably be there."

"Okay," said Carth, still sounding skeptical, "but even if we know where the accelerator is, we still have a room full of armed thugs to worry about."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Carth," interjected Lysias, still looking at the deactivated droid. All we need is a…distraction."

* * *

><p>It turned out that a distraction was exactly what they had needed. Lysias had demonstrated proven to be very adept with machines ("Is there anything that you <em>can't<em> do?" Carth had muttered in annoyance), activating and reprogramming the combat droid to assault the Black Vulkars inside the garage's main hangar. While the surprised Vulkars struggled to subdue the droid (Lysias had equipped it with one of their energy shields), the group ran to the room Mission had mentioned, and after incapacitating a guard, they forced him to unlock the room and lead them to the stolen swoop accelerator prototype. Afterwards they returned to the elevator, albeit after having to fight their way through a few gang members. From there they rode the elevator back down to the sewers, and returned to the Lower City via the elevator that Lysias and Carth had originally taken that morning. They proceeded to the Hidden Bek base, where Lysias smugly delivered the accelerator into the hands of Gadon Thek himself.

Gadon was beside himself with joy. "You've done a wonderful job, Lysias," the gang leader proclaimed, looking at the small device in his hands. "Just fantastic, now we're sure to win tomorrow's race!"

"And your end of the bargain?" Lysias inquired. Gadon seemed like the honorable type, but one could never be certain.

Gadon Thek smiled. "I'm a man of my word Lysias, the Hidden Beks will be sponsoring you in the swoop race. Although I should probably warn you…"

Lysias wasn't surprised; there was a catch, there was always a catch. "Yes?"

Gadon cast his artificial eyes downwards. "Well…it's nothing to really worry about, but the accelerator _is_ just a prototype, and as such it has a few problems."

"You're telling me that we risked our lives to retrieve something that doesn't work properly?" Carth demanded angrily.

"Oh it works just fine," Gadon replied. "The prototype will give you a major advantage tomorrow, no doubt about that. But it also heats up much quicker than normal accelerators. If pushed too hard, there is a chance that it could explode."

"So we risked our lives so that I can risk my life," cut Lysias dryly. "Oh the irony."

"You don't have to race if you don't want to. It's your choice. I just want you to know exactly what you're getting yourself into."

"Fair enough," admitted Lysias. Gadon was using him, to be sure, but at least he was being honest about it.

"So are you still willing to race?"

"I am."

"Good." Gadon called some other Hidden Beks over. He turned back to Lysias. "Have you ever ridden a swoop bike before?" Lysias shook his head. "I didn't think so. These men here will take you to our swoop simulation room. You can practice swoop racing virtually for the rest of the day. The accelerator will give you speed, but you still need to be able to dodge obstacles to steer towards the acceleration pads."

And so Lysias spent the next six hours learning how to swoop race. Wearing a visor through which he could see the virtual track that he was practicing on, he grew accustomed to the steering mechanisms of a swoop bike, and found himself skilled at weaving in and out of fields of boulders, turning sharply in order to direct his bike onto accelerator pads, which boosted the speed of his vehicle. While he was practicing, Lysias asked Carth to meet with Sarna in Javyar's Cantina, and to tell her that his fame as the "Mysterious Stranger" had drawn the Hidden Beks to sponsor him as their rider in the swoop race. When Lysias met up with them later that evening, Sarna was beside herself with excitement. "You're going to blow them away tomorrow!" she told him as they headed for the apartment complex that the Sith had commandeered for their Lower City patrolmen (Mission and Zaalbar had elected to spend the night at the Hidden Beks' base). She then leaned closer, and whispered into his ear, "And speaking of blowing…"

Lysias spent a second night with very little sleep, although Sarna wasn't entirely to blame. After exhausting themselves with carnal activity, Sarna dropped into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Lysias did too, at first. But he found himself plagued by what was becoming a recurring dream: a raven-haired beauty cleaving through hooded figures, her yellow lightsaber besting their scarlet ones. She fought with a fierce determination, as if striving for some unseen goal. The dream ended there; Lysias felt himself plunge back into consciousness, left to lie awake in bed, pondering what it all meant.

Lysias rose early the next morning, just as he had the previous day, and after showering and getting dressed, he and Sarna left the apartment and walked to the Hidden Bek base. From there they were escorted to the swoop racing track. Lysias split from Sarna, Carth, Mission, and Zaalbar, who went to take seats that had been set up along either side of the swoop track. Lysias was directed a large room that served as the race's staging area. Here the Hidden Beks had transported their swoop bike—fitted with the prototype accelerator—and four of their members were performing last-minute maintenance on it, ensuring that it was in peak condition for the race. A short ways away Lysias spotted the Vulkars and their bike; they seemed to be in a sour mood, and he couldn't blame them—he had created chaos in their base and stolen back the accelerator from them less than twenty-four hours previously.

As Lysias approached the Beks' swoop team, one of the members, a blond woman in her early twenties, called out to him. "Hey Lysias, we're just finishing the last diagnostics tests on it. This baby's ready to fly!"

Lysias grinned. The buzz of the event was infectious, and he found himself as excited as everyone else. After completing dozens of virtual runs on the Beks' swoop simulator, he was ready to try the real thing. Gang politics and rescue mission aside, he anticipated that this was going to be a lot of fun.

An electronically amplified voice suddenly sounded from the middle of the room. Everyone turned to stare at its source: a dark-skinned man dressed in bright metallic armor. Beside him stood an empty steel cage, its bars reaching up from the ground for about eight feet before meshing together at the top. Holding a microphone to his mouth, the man announced, "I would like to welcome everyone to the annual Taris Season Opener. As you all know, my name is Brejik, and I'm leader of the Black Vulkars, who are hosting this year's tournament." His tone was light and good-natured, but there was something wicked casting about in his dark eyes, something that betrayed to Lysias a mean spirited nature that would fit a man who led the Vulkars, and mobilized them to instigate such a brutal gang war. "I'm glad to see such a great turnout this year," Brejik continued, "and I know that you all must be as excited as I am to see this thing get underway. So without further ado, let's bring out this year's prize!"

On cue, two of Brejik's men entered the room, each forcefully gripping the arm of a woman. She was dressed in a tight-fitting outfit of black leather, which showcased her alluring curves. Her hair was as black as night, and around her head was fitted a thin metal band. She appeared entirely incapable of walking on her own, and soon the two Vulkars had brought her to the cage beside Brejik, opened the door, and shoved her inside. She stood there, in a motionless stupor, her head lolling forward.

Brejik pointed dramatically at the cage, beside which the two Vulkars stood as guards. "Yes, the winner of this year's Season Opener will be given this gorgeous woman! But she's more than just a pretty face. She's also a Republic officer, captured from one of the escape pods that crash-landed in the Undercity last week. She'll surely fetch a high price on the intergalactic slave market. She's been fitted with a neural disruptor, so she's completely helpless and unaware of what's going on around her. I have to say, I'm going to be a little jealous of the winner—" Brejik grinned perversely "—surely they're going to want to 'have a little fun with her' before they sell her." Several of the Black Vulkars hooted and whistled. "Anyway, you have to win her first, so let the Season Opener begin!"

As the other swoop racers turned back to their bikes, Lysias kept his gaze on the woman in the cage. So that was her, he thought. He had finally found Bastila Shan.


End file.
